


A Knight to Remember

by Tibbsian



Series: A Little Knight Music [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M, Original Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2017-11-21 01:05:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 38
Words: 150,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tibbsian/pseuds/Tibbsian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jax Theron, Operations Commander of M31,  meets ex-CIA operative, Quinn Masterson, neither man knows they’ve met before – under different names, in separate undercover missions that clash head-on, leaving behind collateral damage that will come back to bite Jax in the ass one day.</p><p>Quinn left the CIA, fed up of spook work. He’s decided to take a much-needed vacation but that doesn’t work out as planned either and Quinn finds himself embroiled in yet another undercover assignment, one that will change his life in ways he never envisaged.</p><p>When the two men meet again, one year later, it’s not something Jax wants to remember. Ever. For Quinn, adjusting to life as the newly-discovered son of a powerful man isn’t as bad as he thought it’d be but finding out he’s not straight as he believed himself to be? That’s going to require a bit more work. Especially when the man he’s fallen in love with is going to turn out to be the one who raped him and left him for dead a year ago.</p><p>…but things aren’t always as bad as they seem and our boys do get their HEA.</p><p>Timelime: Dec 2006 - May 2008 (two months before DiNozzo! begins)<br/>Locations: San Diego, Santorini, Spain, Morrocco, Philippines<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. PROLOGUE

**Author's Note:**

> **AUTHOR WARNING:** Suspension of reality is seriously recommended. This is a gay and nothing-but-gay story. They live, work and fuck together in every sense of the word. If this is too unreal for you, give this series a miss:)

 

 

 

 

 

**PROLOGUE**

 

_This scene actually takes place towards the end of our story but introduces us to Alexander Tobias Knight, CEO of KnightShade, and Jax Theron, Operations Commander of M31, a covert unit within the organization._

*  *  *  *  *

_  
_

_** May 2008; ** _

_**Hydra;  KnightShade Comcen** _

 Jax waited, listening for any sound to alert him to his CEO's arrival. All that was heard in the darkened auditorium was the scrape of his jeans as he crossed one leg over the other, to reveal a worn ankle boot.

There had been just enough light for him to make his way to the seats facing the wall-to-wall screen. Not much different from being in a movie theater watching silent reruns. Alone.

He disliked the cavernous room located deep in the bowels of KnightShade Comcen and wondered what possessed his CEO to indulge Hayden in his outlandish ideas. The result? Something out of the set of the Phantom of the Opera rather than the briefing center of the world's largest military services company.

“Good morning, Jax.” The voice came on suddenly, reverberating through the auditorium. Jax felt a flicker of unease as the down lights directly above him came on, dimmed so low that much of the room remained in darkness. But for the man conducting the meeting from his office, at the top floor of a building several hundred meters away, it was sufficient. Every expression on Theron's face, every facial twitch - not that Jax Theron would give himself away with one - would be visible enough.

“I trust you are sufficiently rested from your recent mission.”

Jax glanced at the green light on the ceiling. “Yes, I am.”

Though the voice speaking to him sounded casual and relaxed, Jax knew better than to let his guard down. Alex Knight was a man most people instinctively knew to avoid eye contact. He was also a man who never told you everything until you'd already discovered it yourself.

“And have you been able to convince Nick that starting an orphanage to secretly train Brazilian street-kids will have to wait?” The dry tone was unmistakable.

Jax grimaced slightly, recalling his own reaction when he'd gotten word of Nicholas Monterey's idea. Nick was his head of SAR, one of his best. And more. “I believe he has abandoned that idea. For now.”

“Are you still meeting him at The Web?”

Fuck. How the hell did Alex know about that?

“You really have to give me some credit, Jax,'' Alex said. “Surely you didn't think I wouldn't come to know about that? While I'm not partial to the Lifestyle myself, I am curious as to how your little subterfuge is coming along...and how long you plan to continue with it.”

“The Web,” Jax repeated. “That's over.”

“But you're still fucking him.”

“Yes.” _Why?_ It wasn't as if Alex cared who or what you fucked as long as it wasn't at the expense of the organization.

“And you're fucking my son, too.”

“Quinn fucks Nick, too. _And_ Hekyll and Jekyll. And Staz fucks Quinn.” _But your son fucks me most of all._ “As for Nick, you know we _all_ fuck him.”

“One big happy family, is it?” Alex's voice dripped sarcasm.

“Yep.”

“What is he to you? Just another fuck buddy?”

“I take it you're referring to Quinn and not Nick.”

“By all means include Nick if you wish.”

Jax didn't answer for a few moments. He took a deep breath before replying. “I - he's, uh...” He licked his bottom lip. What the hell was wrong with him? He'd never stumbled during interrogations by the enemy and here he was, at a loss for words over a seemingly innocuous question by Alex, a man he was closer to than anyone else, who knew him inside out. Then again, nothing was ever innocuous with Alex. The man had a dozen weapons under his verbal sleeve.

“He's what?” Alex prompted.

“I love him.” Jax's reply was flat. He hadn't seen Quinn in months but the ache in his chest hadn't subsided.

“You love _all_ your men.” Alex countered.

 _Don't fuck me around, asshole. Get to the fucking point._ “Yes, I do but Quinn is different.” _Was_ different. He thought Quinn felt the same but he was obviously wrong. “What the fuck is this about, Alex?”

Instead of answering, the lights went out and a video clip started.

A familiar room. St Andrew's Cross. Whips on the wall.

Jax frowned. He knew this place. What the fuck?

For the next hour, Jax watched in sickening detail as he and Manuel Vargas raped a man whose green eyes often woke Jax up from the nightmares. Those dreams where the tall blonde's face melted into a morass of blood and rotting flesh only to reconstruct into someone else. Someone whose face he never got to see because the eyes, burning with an angry green flame morphed into a fiery bird that swallowed Jax whole. The KnightShade shrinks had been having a field day with that one until he'd somehow managed to convince them the nightmares were not impairing his ability to do his job.

The clip came to an end but before Jax could breathe again, it switched to another scene. A body lay covered on a metal table. One of the attendants uncovered it and the camera zoomed in. Jax wondered who the db was and why he was viewing it here and not at the morgue if Alex wanted him to identify it.

The vic's head had been turned aside, displaying dark, angry bruises on the neck. Congealed blood smeared the cadaver as it lay on the table. Scalp matted with dried blood, face bruised and swollen. Jax gave the face a quick once-over. Definitely a fractured jaw, if not broken. The cheekbones, eye sockets, from top to toe, the lifeless body was marred by all shades of discoloration and injuries shouting out the abuse the person had undergone.

Suddenly Jax tensed as recognition sank in. The bottom lip was split but Jax could still remember their shape despite the swelling and clumps of dried blood. Could still remember the feel of them against his.

“You do recognize him, don't you?” Alex asked.

“Yes. Harry Matthews. A rep of some Arab sheikh. Arrived in Puerto Banus to attend Vargas’ auction selling kids.” He swallowed the saliva pooling in his mouth. “Collateral damage. That was December eighteen months ago.” Alex never said or did anything without an agenda. What was this about? “What about him?” The clip of Harry Matthews being raped by him already felt like a sand-filled boot dropped on his balls. Waiting for the other boot to drop could only get better, not worse. 

He was so wrong.

 

 

 

 

 

===========================================

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Prologue will be picked up again in Part Three (Chapter 36) of the story so keep in mind, if you can. Everything will come together in Part Three but until then, the events of Part One are crucial to following the plot.


	2. PART ONE - Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _A phone call is about to change Alex's life and obligations because until then, the closest thing Alex had to a son was Jax Theron. ___

 

 

**PART ONE - Chapter 1**

 

_**MONDAY MORNING IN JANUARY 2007** _

_**ALEX’S RESIDENCE; LA JOLLA FARMS ROAD, SAN DIEGO** _

 Alex brought the cup of steaming Brazilian to his lips, thankful that whatever stupid mistakes he'd made in life, siring children wasn't one of them.

Next to him, Anthony DiNozzo, Snr., trusted friend and a valued agent-of-influence, read out the day's news out loud. Not the kind of news-making events they handled on a day to day basis, but the ones that brought some levity to their lives once in a while.

“For God's sake, Anthony, move on to something else! Anything but teenage morons acting up,” Alex grumbled. “Their parents should have been sterilized.”

“What makes you think if _you_ had a child he wouldn't be a moron?” DiNozzo chuckled, pouring himself another cup of coffee.

“He wouldn't dare.” Alex muttered. It wasn't that he hated kids. His had been, and still was, a life that had no place for parenthood but if he'd had any kids, they wouldn't have turned out like this latest Hollywood celebrity's teenage daughter - driving stone-drunk, crashing into a bus stop and killing three people except herself. Pity about that last bit. Or that politician's son that was running a scam. Got himself cut up and scattered over three states after one of his victims turned out to be a drug lord’s nephew.

“You should be thankful _your_ son's on the other side of the law,” Alex said. “Have you seen him lately?”

“No, not lately.” DiNozzo shook his head. “It might be best if I did not. Especially if we suspect the White Phoenix may be eyeing him. Better to monitor him from afar.”

Alex sighed. “That's one very good reason why people like us shouldn't have children. They are liabilities, Anthony, especially if you possess some affection for the little bastards.”

“Well, mine's no longer little and he's not the bastard. _I_ am.” DiNozzo laughed. “But you're right. It would have been better if he had not been born. But he was and I can only hope I'll be able to keep him safe.”

“You're not alone, Anthony,” Alex said, softly. “Whatever my sentiments about covert operatives reproducing, you're my friend...my family almost, and I'll do what I can to make sure your son doesn't become a casualty.”

DiNozzo looked up from the laptop and nodded. “Appreciate that.”

Talking about DiNozzo's unplanned parenthood, had Alex indulging in a rare bit of nostalgia - an unexpected weekend of passion before he and Lillian parted, both knowing it was just one of those ‘ships passing in the night' encounters. Neither of them were in a place in their lives for more than that. But if he were, Lillian would have been the one he'd have married. He wondered, not for the first time, what had become of her.

Charles, his butler, interrupted his thoughts, holding out the cordless phone to him. “Mr. Knight. The caller says your _son_ would like to have a word with you.” Alex eyed his deadpan expression suspiciously but the butler merely turned on his heels and left as unobtrusively as he came.

 _ _Son?__ Alex glared at Charles' retreating back as he put the receiver to his ear.

DiNozzo looked up at Alex, frowning. _ _Son?__

“Mr. Knight?”

Alex didn't recognize the voice. “Yes?”

“I've got your son with me,” the stranger said. “He's badly injured. You have to come and get him.”

Alex bristled. “You need to be a little smarter than that to use that line on me.” He hung up and looked around irritably for Charles.

“Did I hear Charles say ‘son'?” DiNozzo asked, intrigued.

“Crank call,” Alex muttered irritably. “Charles ought to know better than to put them through.”

 The phone rang again. He looked at the ringing phone. Con-men rarely called back when they were exposed or blown off. “Who are you?” he snapped, putting the call on speaker.

“He told me his name is Quinn Masterson,” the caller said, ignoring Alex's question. “Before he passed out, he said to tell you Lili Marlene gave him your number.”

“Where -”

“Wait, he's coming round. I'll see if he can talk to you.”

Alex heard some shuffling and labored breathing.

 ”Alex?” The voice was rough. Weak. A whisper as if the speaker's throat was damaged. “Lili. Marlene. My mother. She was my mother...got a letter for you.” Quinn coughed and winced as pain sliced through his bowels. “Hurt bad. Dante will give...location. Make it fast, will ya?”

The man called Dante came back on the phone and Alex pounced on him. “Where is he?” The other questions could wait. Right now, he needed to get to the injured man. _If_ he was injured. It could still be a hoax. Except no one knew about ‘Lili Marlene'. The ship he'd passed in the night thirty years ago.

“This sounds awfully intriguing,” DiNozzo said. “Who is Lili Marlene?”

“Let's go, Anthony. I’ll tell you in the car.” Alex got up from the table.

Charles appeared miraculously. “I'll tell Taco to bring the car round, Mr. Knight.”

 

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

   
 _ **ONE WEEK LATER;**_

_**SHARP MEMORIAL HOSPITAL,** _

_**SAN DIEGO** _

“I'm sorry, Mr. Knight,” the doctor said. “He says he has no recollection of how he got his injuries or how he got to the warehouse. He's been in an out of consciousness. This morning's the first he's stayed conscious.”

“But he knew my home number,” Alex argued. “He didn't have a cell-phone with him so he must have memorized it.”

“I doubt if he'll be able to tell you. He's got a big chunk of memory missing.”

“Partial amnesia?”

“A combination of anterograde & retrograde amnesia. Both categories of amnesia can occur together in the same patient, and commonly result from drug effects or damage to the brain regions.”

“Bottom line example?” Alex asked.

“Well, like a driver unable to recall driving his automobile _prior_ to his head injury - that's the retrograde amnesia. But he can't recall the hospital ward where he is told he had conversations with family for the few days following the accident - that's the anterograde amnesia. A sort of before and after.”

“So at the point he called me, he couldn't remember what happened to cause his injuries and now he can't even tell me how and why he contacted me?

“That's right,” Dr Wang said. “But while he can't recall events prior to his being found at the warehouse, his long-term memory is intact. If you fall into that period, meaning he already knew you and knew your number before the uh, attack, he should be able to recall you.

“So he can remember his name, where he lives etc?”

“Yes,” Dr Wang replied. “All that's intact, which is why I am optimistic he can remember you. He's just missing one week of his life. Unless he's supposed to appear as a witness in court or bought a winning lottery ticket, it shouldn't be too much of an upheaval on his daily life.”

“Well that's a relief.” Alex sighed. “Thanks, Neil. I'll see what he can tell me now just in case he goes under again.”

“Alex, he's going to need extensive reconstructive surgery and you know we  don't -”

“It's alright, Neil. I'll take care of it. I'll let you know by tomorrow what to do him. Meanwhile, see that he receives the best care.”

“Of course.” Dr Neil Wang nodded and left to attend to the nurse waiting patiently for him. Alex turned to the door of Quinn's room and entered.

 ”Quinn.” Alex called out to the man on the bed. He was bandaged in so many parts he looked like a caricature of an Egyptian mummy. “Quinn. It's me.” Silence met him. “Your father.” Perhaps that would elicit a response.

“Father? Oh. The letters.” The words were hissed out, as if every syllable hurt its speaker.

“How do you know Lili Marlene?” Alex asked, going straight for the jugular.

“Lili?” Quinn blew out a pain-filled breath.

 ”You mentioned her name when you called me,” Alex replied, not adding that the man had also said she was his mother. “About a week ago. I found you in the warehouse at Imperial after your friend called me.”

Quinn turned his head towards Alex even though his eyes were bandaged. “Where am I?”

“Sharp Memorial. You've been here a week. In and out of consciousness.”

Quinn winced as he tried to shift his body, his stitches pulling painfully. “Yeah. 'member now. Lily Marlene. I know her as Lillian Molyneux, of course. She was my mother. I remember everything except...except how I got here...why you're here...am I supposed to know you? My father died years ago.” Alex filed that one away for later.

“We'll try to unravel all that later,” he said.  “First, tell me about Lili. You said she was your mother?”

“Yeah. ‘Was'. I meant she passed away three years ago.” Quinn took a ragged breath and let it out with a soft groan. “Left me a letter for you.”

“How did she die?”

“Pancreatic cancer.”

Alex absorbed that, saying nothing. A sort of posthumous minute of silence out of respect. “She left me a letter you said. Where is it?”

“At home.”

“And where is that?” This man, Quinn Masterson, didn't have any ID on him when Alex and Anthony found him inside the unused warehouse near Imperial Beach following the phone call, already unconscious. The friend, Dante, the one who'd called Alex, was nowhere to be found. Not even a follow-up call to make sure his friend was safe.

“Where am I?” Quinn asked again.

“In Sharp Memorial,” Alex answered a second time. “Look, I don't know you but you mentioned a name and she's the only reason why you're here and not left to rot in that warehouse where your friend dumped you. Now if you have anything else to tell me, do it fast because if Nurse Ratched returns and throws me out, I won't be back.”

Quinn smiled weakly at the reference to the sadistic nurse from ‘One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest'. “You'll come back. Or you wouldn't be here now,” he said to the man beside his bed. “Looks like she knew what she was doing telling me to give you your pet name for her. Said it would get your attention.” He took a deep breath then let it out heavily. “Anyway, the letters are in my house. Bedside drawer. Two envelopes. One to me and one to you.” Quinn stopped to cough, cursing as his body tensed with pain. “Do whatever you want with yours. You can leave mine there.”

“Address?” Alex asked, intrigued despite his skepticism. Quinn gave it to him and he stored it in his KnightFone, noting that it was in San Francisco. “Keys?”

“No key. Digital lock. Alarm, too.” He gave Alex the numbers. Yeah, I know what you're thinking, Quinn smiled to himself. “Surprised I even have a roof over my head much less one of those sophisticated electronic door locks?”

Alex let that pass. “What took you so long to get in touch with me?”

Quinn swallowed, his throat feeling raw from the tube down his nasal passage. “Didn't know about you until I found the letters. She'd kept them in her jewelry box. When she died, I wasn't in the country. Was cleaning up her house last month to sell. Found the box then.” He breathed heavily, the effort of explaining that exhausting him. He knew that raised more questions than answered them but it would have to do for now. Where he was when his mother died was irrelevant for now.

Alex looked down at him for a few minutes, not saying anything.  The idea of him being a father hadn't sunk in. He didn't even believe it but the mention of Lili Marlene had done the trick. He would  investigate it, at least.

He had a whole lot of questions but they could wait. First, he'd get those letters and verify the story he was told. After that, if Quinn's story panned out, they could talk though that could be awhile. His injuries were severe and if Masterson was a blue collar worker, he'd be looking at early retirement because both knees were fucked up for good. He would be disfigured for life unless he underwent specialized facial reconstructive surgery and he'd suffered orbital fractures in his eye due to blunt trauma. The kind of medical technology that could put this Humpty Dumpty back together good as new was available only at KnightShade MediCom. And that facility's cutting edge technology was not available to the public. Not even to DoD personnel, since much of it was top-secret prototypes.

“I'll be back this evening,” Alex told him, heading for the door.

“Whatever,” Quinn mumbled and sank into the bed with a deep sigh.  

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

  _ **SAN  FRANCISCO; SAME DAY**_

 Alex punched the numbers on the lock and the front door beeped open. Entering the darkened house, a warm yellow light automatically, but gently, lit up the hallway. He disengaged the alarm and moved further into the house, turning on lights as he went.

Modern and not cheap, Alex concluded, recognizing the Italian designer. Some art prints on the wall but nothing else except an expensive entertainment system.

Two bedrooms, one with twin beds and the other, the master bedroom with its California king, a walk-in wardrobe as well as a large en suite bathroom. He went straight to the bedside table and opened the drawer. Two envelopes, as  he was told; a box of Ansell Elite Extra Strong. Might be his son, after all.

He flipped the envelopes. His was still sealed. The one with Quinn's name had been torn open. Alex put it down and opened the one addressed to him, scanning the single sheet, both sides filled with Lillian's handwriting. He'd remarked how beautiful her longhand script was and she had told him she was taught and trained from an early age to write the cursive script by their Filipino nanny when the family was living in the Philippines.

He sat on the bed and began to read.

 

__Dear Alex,_ _

__If you get this letter, it is because you have outlived me. I had not planned to tell Quinn about his biological father just yet. I was planning it to be one of those deathbed confessions, you see. However, pancreatic cancer being an extremely impatient bugger, I am sending our son to meet the man who, for a brief weekend, made me forget the pain and horror of that savage yet beautiful continent that is Africa._ _

__I leave it to you to decide what to tell Quinn about us. I did not even tell him about the cancer. Why worry him when there was nothing he could do, anyway? As to why you did not know you have a son until now, I did send you a letter when I found out I was pregnant but  did not get a reply. I put it to the horrendous postal service out of that God-forsaken village I was in. And, perhaps, that I only knew your first name._ _

__By the time I reached Kindu Airport about three months after you left, I was feeling rather unwell and was most relieved to catch the flight out of DRC with the other aid workers. I'm sure you'll understand getting myself settled back in France was my priority and so once that was accomplished, I set about to bring up my son as best as I could. Only it was years later, chancing upon a photograph of you with some European businessmen that I realized who you were. Twenty years had passed by then and getting in touch with you after so long didn't seem like a sensible idea. Besides, I had married, and happily so._ _

__Quinn is not in need of money in case you think that's why I'm sending him to you. My husband, Sam  Masterson, left us both well off enough. If you do decide to tell Quinn who you are, then let him read this letter so that he will know that it was I who did not attempt to find out where you were after he was born._ _

__Why now then, I'm sure you've asked. Because soon I won't be here and Sam is already gone. You have remained single and I can only conclude that you are not the type to want a family . Nevertheless, if there is a chance for Quinn to have one, and__ ____if you do decide you have space in your life for a son,__ why not?  Whether Quinn has any in his life for you, you'll have to find out from him. If you wish to, of course._ _

  
__Of course, I expect you to do the necessary tests to prove paternity ._ _

__

__Much Affection,_ _

__Your Lili Marlene_ _

__April 26, 2004_ _

Alex picked up Quinn's envelope and took both letters out to the dining room where he'd spotted a small bar next to the open-plan kitchen. Pouring himself a glass of JD, he took it to the lounge and took out the note addressed to Quinn.

 

__My dearest Quinn,_ _

__Please deliver the letter addressed to Alex Knight personally. He is the CEO of KnightShade, USA. You are likely to encounter the usual “not available” response from his corporate and household staff and when you do, tell them to inform him the letter is from LILI MARLENE. Do not leave my letter with them but give it to Alex yourself. You do not have to speak to him beyond what's necessary. I trust you to carry out my last wishes._ _

__I love you, my dearest son. I am thankful I made the right choice, too, to marry Sam. I know you loved him as much as he loved you. One day you will have the kind of love he and I had - the best of friends on top of everything else ._ _

__Stay safe in everything but love._ _

__

__Mom._ _

__April 26 2004._ _

__PS: Alex's residential number is (858)555-8585 at this writing. How I obtained it is irrelevant._ _

Alex sat there for a full hour, reading both letters several times. At four-fifteen, he boarded his chopper and made a call to KnightShade MediCom.

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

Back at Sharp Memorial, Quinn felt like he'd been broken in a hundred places inside then dragged through the streets. The powerful painkillers were making him woozy and he didn't know, at times, whether he was awake or asleep. He couldn't tell if the voices he heard were real or dreams. Or memories.

He felt someone pat his hand then a friendly voice telling him they were changing his dressing. The low voices of the two male orderlies lulled him into a semi-sleep and their gentle wipes on his bruised body was comforting compared to what he'd been through.

What had he been through? He couldn't remember anything. He had a vague recollection of speaking to Alex, of bright lights hitting him in the face, the overpowering odor of antiseptic and being wheeled through a maze of corridors while people talked over him. All he remembered being told was that his internal injuries were severe and he needed emergency surgery; of climbing out of consciousness only to be dragged back into the dark, heavy cloud again.

The gentle ministrations continued. One of the orderlies began singing a Country & Western oldie and Quinn drifted off...

 

_T _he party was in full swing and while Quinn felt honored to have been invited, in truth he felt a little out of place. He didn't grow up poor but his middle-class upbringing did not expose him to the kind of luxury that Arkady Petrovsky and his peers lived in. That friendship alone was a source of mild bemusement to Quinn and he would have declined the invitation at any other occasion. This,  however, was Arkady's birthday and there was no way he couldn't not attend.__

__Thankfully, Arkady's twins, Arina and Andrei, made him feel like part of the family even if some of the snootier guests merely nodded politely when he was introduced as “a family friend - he used to be our bodyguard”._ _

 Quinn stirred and moaned softly. He muttered a few unintelligible words, heard soothing voices and sank back into sleep.

__He escaped the gaggle of guests to use the toilet but it had a queue of three women chattering on endlessly about the latest fashion as they waited. He needed to go. Urgently. He'd use the toilet in the guestroom upstairs. His assignment guarding the twins when a crazy admirer had stalked them had been 24/7 and he was familiar not only with the house but the entire Petrovsky property._ _

__Quinn brushed a hand over his hair. He'd turned blonde and given himself a close-cropped style for his last assignment. He could return to his natural dark chestnut once he got to Santorini. Maybe even grow a beard. Just a couple of days more and he'd be jetting across to the Mediterranean. He could wait two days._ _

__But tonight, his piss wouldn't hold two minutes. He made his way quickly down the hallway, his footsteps quiet on the thick  carpet. A celadon vase filled with fragrant Oriental lilies sat on the small table outside each of the five guestrooms. All rooms in the house had electronic locks. Guests would be given the code to their room once they registered with security. Otherwise, the rooms were left unlocked._ _

__He tried the first door. Locked. So were the second, third and fourth. If the fifth one was as well, he'd have to piss in the vase!_ _

__To his relief, the door snicked open and Quinn slipped in, his fingers already unzipping his pants. Oh fuck. Someone was in there. His head snapped to the man at the foot of the bed. A man clearly in the midst of fucking someone, doggy-style. From the sounds, it was two guys going at it._ _

__“Oh sh -! I'm sorry.” Quinn blurted out. “ I really need to take a piss so could you just carry on while I use the bathroom? Won't be long.” He hurried to the bathroom, did his thing and came out. The man was now sitting on the bed, his back to Quinn and his companion was covered by the sheets from top to bottom._ _

__Quinn headed straight for the door, not even looking at the men after the initial glance when he came out of the bathroom._ _

 

“Mr. Masterson, wake up.” Someone was patting his shoulder. “Mr. Masterson, wake up. You have a visitor.”

Quinn mumbled something incoherent as he emerged from his drug-induced sleep.

“Mr. Masterson.” His nurse called again. “Wake up, dearie. You're being transferred.”

“Quinn Masterson,” a deep voice said in his ear. “My name's Rohan Oberoi. I'm here to escort you to our medical center.

“Where?” Quinn whispered.

“KnightShade. Our ride's waiting. Alex Knight's on his way back from San Francisco and he'll meet you at MediCom.

Quinn didn't protest. Didn't see the point. He felt himself being lifted and shifted onto a trolley bed then wheeled out. Still groggy from sleep and disoriented, he wondered if he was dreaming again. The next time he awoke he was in the air. He asked if he could have the bandage off his eyes but the guy called Rohan said he couldn't but proceeded to give him a detailed account of where they were going to and why.

 

 

   
 ** _  
_***  *  *  *  *

**  
**

** _KNIGHTSHADE MEDICOM_ **

** _TORREY PINES, SAN DIEGO, CA._ **

It didn't take them long to reach KnightShade MediCom. Maybe ten, fifteen minutes, including touchdown and being unloaded. Rohan explained to Quinn that he'd be examined by KnightShade MediCom's doctors and, depending on their decision, could go into surgery as soon as this evening. Tomorrow morning, latest.

Quinn was wheeled into the operating theater that afternoon. Once again, his senses were assaulted by the same odors, the same sounds of people moving and talking around him quietly. For a few minutes, the bandage was removed from his eyes. His left eye was shut and still on fire but he could see through his right. It wasn't clear but he could see and that was good enough for now. Someone came alongside and introduced herself as his anesthetist and would put him to sleep for awhile.

With a comforting pat on his forearm, she said “sweet dreams.” And the darkness took over...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 ============================

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The Prologue will be picked up again in Part Three (Chapter 36) of the story so keep in mind, if you can. Everything will come together in Part Three but until then, the events of Part One are crucial to setting up the plot._


	3. PART ONE - Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Chapter 2 takes us on Quinn's anesthesia-induced flashback: He has just landed on the island of Santorini when he is pressured into doing one last assignment. One that could just cost him his life. This is where we meet Dante Santorelli, Quinn's best friend and CIA operative, who appears as Severo Vega in DiNozzo!_
> 
> _The flashback, which will take us from Santorini to Spain, will continue until Chapter 8._

_Two  weeks ago; late December 2006_

_Oia, Santorini_

Santorini had a harsh, striking kind of beauty, not the soft, rounded feel of the tropical islands that Quinn was used to. Breathtakingly beautiful, the tiny village of Oia on the north of Thira, Santorini's main island, was everything the brochures had touted it to be. The postcard pictures didn't even do the real thing justice as far as Quinn was concerned.

Dropping his bags at the foot of the bed, he went and took a leak then headed straight for the balcony, drawn by the island's famous scenery like everyone else. The little villa was nothing to boast about - just a large room with a king-size bed, a small kitchen in a recess and a small bathroom. No dining room but there was a counter dividing the kitchenette and the main room.

But the view. Ah, that was worth a million bucks. The bedroom opened out to a spacious balcony spanning the entire back of the little house, facing the blue Aegean. Spilling over the slopes below, the little villas and luxury resorts with their lap pools shone brilliant white-and-blue in the early evening light. Like an elongated pearl, a cruise ship anchored off the harbor.

A small table with a bright cobalt blue and white tablecloth and two wooden chairs were set against the balcony wall. There were a couple of matching deckchairs as well for snoozing.

Quinn stepped out and breathed in the cool evening air. The sun was low in the sky, not quite near the horizon yet but it was late enough to cast a pale gold glow over the island and the picturesque villas clinging to the volcanic slopes like white limpets on a rock.

Three weeks of this and he'd head back home and give his uncle Geoff a call. He had enough stashed away after one and a half years taking on jobs most guys wouldn't touch. The sale of his mother's house plus what Sam had left him meant he didn't have to work anymore if he kept things modest but he wanted to work. But not as a spook or a contract operative.

There was also the matter of the letter to Alex Knight, CEO of KnightShade, USA and a director-shareholder of Theron-Knight Atomics. His biological father. His mother wanted him to deliver the letter to Alex personally but he'd balked at it. Sam Masterson, whom his mother had married when Quinn was four, was the only father he knew and loved. He didn't give a flying fuck whose sperm had produced him, not now when he was a grown man and had survived the kind of shit he had. Not even if the sperm donor turned out to be the head of the world's largest PMC. Okay, so that did get his attention but no way was he waltzing in to the KnightShade HQ and announcing he was their boss' bastard son.

Yeah, he chuckled. He could just see how that would go down,

But Lillian did request that he hand-deliver her letter and she'd been gone almost three years. About time he suck it up and do as she'd requested so that's what he'd do.

 _After_ his vacation.

* * * * *

Quinn pulled off his tee-shirt, balled it up and tossed it inside the room. He'd have a quick shower then head down to his usual haunt for a meal then check out the action at any of the resort hotels. He needed a fuck and there were always more than enough hot pussies to choose from if one went to the right places. Not the local girls - he wanted to leave Santorini with his dick still attached to him - but the more upmarket resorts never disappointed. He wasn't all that fussy. As long as it was hot and tight, it didn't matter whether married or single, blonde or brunette - or forty as long as he didn't have to lift her tits to see her waist. Hell, last year he had a 45 year-old whose body could give a woman half her age a run for her money. Must have been all those pricey Swiss treatments her financier-husband paid through his nose for.

A movement below caught his attention and he sought it out. A couple of levels down, he watched a naked man walk across the patio of his villa and plunge into the swimming pool. The villa was one of the larger, luxury ones with the ubiquitous infinity pool and Jacuzzi but in the five years he'd visited Santorini, he'd never seen anyone staying there.

The man cut through the water in smooth strokes, did several laps then waded to the edge of the pool, overlooking the Aegean. Kicking his legs up, he propped his forearms on the edge and Quinn got an eyeful of a hard, tanned ass, long, shapely legs and a back that rippled with muscles as the Greek god kicked to keep his body stretched out but partially submerged. Most of the occupants of the villas that had balconies or courtyards sunbathed nude, totally unconcerned in that typically European way. Quinn couldn't get a look at the Adonis' face but before he'd turned towards the ocean, Quinn had caught sight of a strong jaw and features that, though too far to see in detail, looked like it belonged on a model. With a body and face like that, he probably was one. Quinn waited for the middle-aged woman that typically accompanied these hunky young men to make a appearance. But no one joined the Greek god below and Quinn couldn't help feeling strangely pleased. He stood at the balcony watching his nude neighbor, wondering if he would turn around so Quinn could get a good look at his face. He liked a good body on a man but ultimately, it was the face that decided it for him. He jerked back mentally as if a cattle prod had hit him. Liked a good body on a _man?_ Where the hell did that come from? Decided _what_ for him? No, not going there. There be nasty dragons. Smarter to head out for an early dinner and chill out with Elias.

* * * * *

Jax felt the prickling at the nape of his neck and immediately snapped open his eyes. Lowering his lower torso back in the water, he turned over and scanned the villas above, knowing someone was watching. Too many years, too much experience for him to not feel it. The movement in the villa above. To the left. But whoever it was, was already gone.

* * * * *

Elias Sigalas, the proprietor, served the best char-grilled octopus Quinn had ever eaten and his wife, Elena, made a mouth-watering stifado. The taverna owner brought out two glasses and a well-chilled bottle of Assyrtiko, the distinctive, smoky white wine made from Santorini grapes and sat down at the table. Elena was chattering away in Greek to her customers, stopping now and then at Quinn's table to repeat and translate certain words for him. His Greek was passable, at best, and the local Santorinian accent was a little too difficult for him.

It was still too early for the locals and the taverna would not fill up till six when everyone would come to watch the sunset from the taverna's terrace. It wasn't the tourist season so the little restaurant would still be cozy. Elias' would be one of the few  tavernas open in December as most establishments tended to close for the Christmas and New Year season.

Quinn ate his meal leisurely, absorbing the aromas of seafood grilling and the delicious smells of souvlakia and the mezzes. He listened to Elena berate her husband about something as she brought out a plate of domatokeftedes - meatballs flavored with tomatoes, a Santorini specialty. Since his first visit to Santorini five years ago, he'd felt at home with Elias and Elena who treated him like a son.

He stayed on to watch the sunset then headed home, stepping into the little villa just as his cell phone rang. A voice Quinn thought he'd left behind for good, had him tensing up.

"Yeah, Bradley. No, I'm on vacation and no, you don't need to know where." He listened for a second then said, emphatically, "No." Bradley obviously wouldn't take No for an answer. "I said N.O. No."

Quinn stepped back into the room and sat on the bed.  "I'm not an agent anymore. No, not even that."

"Listen, Quinn," Bradley Weston said. "Arkady Petrovsky's children have been abducted."

"When?" Quinn shot up from the bed.

"Yesterday, maybe the night before that. It's not in the news. Petrovsky wants it kept quiet."

Quinn blew out a breath. "Why are you coming to me? You must have a dozen guys from every agency on this by now."

"Because Dante asked for you to handle this assignment."

Quinn paused at the mention of his former partner's name. "He knows I'm on vacation, not to mention he was the first one to know I'd quit."

"Yes well, you know how it is with you guys," Bradley said. "Forever together and all that. Look, I'll have Dante call you himself. Hear him out and if it's still no, then you tell him. Fair enough?"

 _Been nothing fair where you were concerned, asshole_ , but Quinn did owe Petrovsky. It was Petrovsky who organized a rescue team at his own expense to get Quinn out of St Petersburg after that mission fuck-up. Yeah, there was history there between them but very few people knew about that. "Alright. But make it quick."

"Ten minutes." Bradley rang off before Quinn could argue.

He tossed the phone on the bed and got up. The sun had set by now but the sky was still awash with fiery reds and soft purples. He went out and automatically looked down, in case the naked god made another appearance. The pool was empty. Quinn gave a soft huff, chiding himself. Even if the guy had looked up at him, he was too far down for Quinn to see his face clearly. He gave himself a mental shake. Way to go, Quinn. Stick to the pussies and you'll forget about what you have no business thinking about in the first place.

He went back in and put his shirt back on. He was feeling horny and Bradley could wait. Grabbing his phone off the bed, he stuffed it in his jeans pocket and opened the front door just as the phone vibrated.

"Yeah," He growled.

"It's me. D." No greeting. No niceties.

"What happened?" Quinn asked, his voice clipped, the tension automatically taking hold of him.

"Sorry to interrupt your vacation but I need your help,"  Dante said, his tone urgent. "Petrovsky's kids. Andrei and Arina. They have been abducted."

"I heard."

"The FBI was on it but it was passed to us because of other political complications. I need your help to get them back."

"Why me, D?"  Quinn said. "I left a year and a half ago." "This isn't just your run-o-the-mill kidnapping. Petrovsky's very likely the next US ambassador to Moscow. We aren't exactly overflowing with US-born Russian industrialists with his political savvy and diplomacy.  There's also no one I trust these days," Dante said. "Maybe I'm being paranoid but there's stuff going down. I just handed in my resignation last week. When this assignment came up I told Bradley I wasn't doing it but he asked if I would if you joined the team. Since I'm still an employee and don't have a choice -"

"Bradley brought me up?" Quinn asked, cutting him short.  "Why? It's not as if he thinks I'm so crash hot."

"Bradley needs to get this one wrapped up and get on Petrovsky's good side. Look, we all know you owe Petrovsky big time. This is a chance for you to pay it back even if it means having to play ball with Bradley."

"I'll talk to Petrovsky first and get back to you."

"No can do. He and his wife have gone into round-the-clock protection and no one can contact them for the next few hours until everything's in place. I need to get my team together _now_. If it helps, I've spoken to Petrovsky myself and as you can expect, he's pretty shaken. His wife has had to be sedated and there's a total lock-down on them. No press coverage, nothing's to be leaked out. At this point, only the FBI and the Agency know." Dante waited a beat. "What'll it be, Quinn? In or out?"

Quinn pinched the bridge of his nose and gave a sigh. "In."

Dante expelled a breath of relief. "Okay, then. Here's what we got. The man we suspect has the kids is Manuel Vargas."

Quinn frowned. "The Spanish resort owner?"

"Yes. The twins knew him from a couple of years back at one of the parties in Milan. Petrovsky received a call from them three days ago saying they were going to cruise up the Med on Vargas' yacht and that was the last he heard from them."

Quinn muttered an expletive. The Petrovsky kids were responsible children, unlike many who belonged to the ultra-rich, jet-setting club.

"They phoned their mother every day," Dante continued. "So when she did not hear from them for three days, the parents got worried. Petrovsky called Vargas who told him the last time he saw the twins was at a party given by Stavros Niarchos on his yacht the day before they went silent. Vargas had left that party early to meet clients in Athens and our investigation bore that out.

"However, one of the crew on board Stavros' yacht overheard Andrei telling Arina not to drink too much as they needed to meet Vargas _later_ after he finishes his meeting."

"So Vargas would be the one who saw them last then."

"Yup."

"What's the plan?"

"You need to get yourself into Vargas' resort in Puerto Banus and convince him to take you home with him for the weekend. We believe the twins are going to be sold off at his annual auction this Sunday. Yeah, this Sunday. Yes, I know that sucks. Not sure about the time but from chatter we've received, around eleven hundred hours. He's supposed to have a new shipment of boys and girls arriving for the auction."

"You've been keeping tabs on Vargas?

"Not us. The FBI and Interpol. They believe he's running a pedophile supplies business and I'm talking toys of the human kind."

"Shit."

"Yeah. Nasty piece of scum but smart. So far Interpol hasn't been able to get any evidence to charge him. Where are you? Can you get to Puerto Banus by tomorrow?"

"Puerto Banus. That's near Marbella."

"Yeah. I can arrange the flight for you."

"It's okay. I can find my way. If I strike a problem I'll call but there're several flights a day from Santorini." There wasn't any point not telling Dante where he was. Bradley would have traced his call by now. "I should be able to catch a flight to Athens and from there to Spain.

There was some murmuring at the other end of the line then Dante's voice returned. "Nearest airport would be Malaga. From there it's a ten minute ride to Puerto Banus. We've booked a suite for you coz your cover's that of a rep for one of the Arab sheikhs who's hoping to get hold of a piece of Vargas' merchandise. I don't suppose you could get hold of a good disguise at short notice?"

"Yeah. I can get my shit together. I just got off a job and am still in my Harry Matthews gear."

"Good.  Check in under that name. I'll meet you in Puerto Banus. Call me when you get in. You have only until Sunday morning to try and locate the twins before the auction.

"Not much time."

"We've managed to narrow down the general holding area to the villa."

"That helps a lot. Are they at the villa yet?"

"No. On their way. We think they're with the shipment that's destined for Sanlucar de Barrameda where Vargas' villa is. His cargo routes have been known to Interpol for some time. They've busted a couple of shipments in the past but he simply alters the route and the cargo ends up in his villa after which they're never seen again."

"He's got them chopped up and buried in the walls?"

"Ha. Ha. Funny. Not." Dante gave a snort. "They're going somewhere, alright, but we don't know where and how. Somehow he's smuggling them out without being seen. Your job, though, is to locate the twins. Don't worry about the others."

"And you?"

"You find them and my team and I will deliver them home. I gotta go. Have to let Bradley-baby know we're rockin' and rollin'. See you in Puerto Banus Wednesday. I'll be checking in as Nicky Santos. And Quinn?"

"Yeah?"

"Keep the details of our strategy from Bradley, okay?"

"Preaching to the choir, _Nicky Baby_."

 

 

_ Wednesday _

_ Casa de Suenos; Puerto Banus, Spain _

At precisely thirteen oh eight hundred hours, Puerto Banus time, Luis Salinas Perona d’Aragon, a.k.a The Firebird, strolled into the Restaurante Sol Español on the ground floor of  the Casa de Suenos. He ordered an Ensalada de Bogavante, the lobster salad Vargas' secretary had recommended just before she started sucking him off, and the Lubina a la Sal, which was a favorite of the receptionist at the front desk. He was partial to sea bass himself so he readily took their recommendations but politely declined their offer of a threesome later tonight. He'd played along with Dina, Vargas' secretary for the same old reason. Information. He'd gotten it - Vargas was returning to his villa on Friday, leaving after his meeting with some Japanese businessmen. The arms auction was Saturday but the secretary had it down as a lunch party. Vargas also had another event on Sunday but she didn't have the details for that except the catering arrangements. No idea who the guests were or what the occasion was. Vargas had taken care of that himself, apparently. She had organized for the usual security to escort his guests but told him that Ramon, Vargas' chief of security handled that once the guests were on the villa grounds.

The restaurant was bright and airy, open on all sides and led out to the pool area, beyond which the deep blue Mediterranean was dotted with brilliant white sailboats and other leisure craft . Luis chose a table in a corner that enabled him to have a hundred and eighty degree view of who was coming and going.

With Vargas out of town there was enough time to do drive out and do a recce of the villa and be back in time tomorrow to meet him.

Staz and Nick would be flying in tonight and he'd leave a message for them. He wondered if he'd be able to return to Santorini once Vulcan-1 was safely in their hands. He'd like a week there with Nick then remembered his intention to terminate that relationship.

Not having anything pressing until Vargas returned tomorrow, Jax allowed himself to kick back and relax. Ordering a pot of coffee, he took some time to consider the situation between him and Nick Monterey.  He'd loved Nick in that weird way since he and Staz rescued him from a gang that was about to turn the fifteen year-old into mince. Jax was 22 and Staz two years younger. To all who knew them at the time, Jax loved Nick like a protective older brother . What they didn't know was that he also wanted Nick in the most carnal way possible. Or that Nick not only felt the same way but made no attempts to hide it from Jax.

He had taken the Nick up on his invitations, of course. Nick had been one helluva fuck. Still was. There was something about him that he and the men found irresistible. Except Staz. The Cajun was, for some reason, immune to Nick's charms. Which was unfortunate for Nick whose heart belonged to Staz. Had, since that day in the alley thirteen years ago. Since Nick couldn't have Staz any way except as a friend and team-mate, Nick sought solace elsewhere and therein lay the problem.

Jax had stopped having  sex with Nick once they'd gone their separate ways after Jax left to join the army. Ten years ago, he'd been approached by Alex to set up M31. He brought Staz on, then a young but experienced Navy SEAL. He'd added Hayden and Jordan, the two young whizzkids from MIT, then Adam, who was specializing in combat trauma medicine.

Three years ago, he'd brought Nick on, who topped his BUD/s and had several missions under his belt. Jax had refused, however, to pick up their sexual relationship from where they left off. He wasn't convinced, at the time, that fucking your operatives was a good idea.

At least, that had been his stance at the time, when M31 was still in its formative years. Once he'd gotten his team, he realized that the eclectic group of men he'd gotten together had very different ideas about sex, too. Sharing wasn't a problem. In fact, Hayden, Jordan and Adam couldn't seem to function any other way and happily indulged themselves with each other within twenty-four hours of meeting one another. Even Nick fucked them but Jax noticed that the younger man did not bottom for his team. He had been curious, of course, but since he himself did not bottom for anyone either, he'd accepted it as Nick's preference. Staz, however, did not join in and sought his pleasures outside the team.

Then, he'd found out Nick had been going to clubs that catered to the BDSM crowd. Like Hysteria and SubZero, the former being riskier than the latter. Blacque was another high-octane club. There, you could put your name down for a draw and if you were lucky, get picked to be the star attraction that night.

Jax had followed him one night and spent it watching his head of SAR get fucked by a line of strangers. He hauled Nick off the stage, to the boos and jeers of the crowd, but Nick had gone quietly, still zoned-out by the evening's activities. The next day, Jax had taken Nick down to a club where, he told Nick, there was someone who would know how to fill Nick's needs.

So for the past one year, he'd been fucking Nick at The Web, the latter not realizing the masked Dom who owned him was none other than the operations commander of M31. His superior.  Didn't know that the man who understood his needs and loved him with all of his complex sexual hungers was the man whose apartment he shared and who had never so much as hinted there was anything other than a professional relationship between them. One of the rules in their contract was that Nick could not bottom for anyone anymore, unless his Dom gave him permission. The other was that they met only in The Web. In between sessions, Nick could fuck whoever he wanted as long as he was the top. Nick had agreed readily.

"Would you like dessert, senor?" the waitress asked, interrupting Luis' reverie.

"No, thank you, but some cold water would be good." Luis replied. As the waitress sashayed away to get his water, Luis returned to his thoughts, now on the covert unit Alex had tasked Jax with setting up...

 

 

______________________

tbc


	4. PART ONE - Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _We meet Luis Salinas Perona D'Aragon, Jax's alter-ego. Jax/Luis is in the middle of the final phase of an almost decade-long mission to capture the leaders of the White Phoenix._
> 
>  
> 
> _Quinn is on his own rescue mission, going undercover as Harry Matthews and things are happening back in the CIA hq where Quinn's nemesis is plotting more crap for him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**Author’s Note:** Hitachi holds the record for the smallest RFID chip – dust-size chips that can stotre 38-digit numbers using 128-bit ROM._

M31 existed under the radar and hidden amongst the various divisions of the KnightShade Group of Companies. To the world at large, KnightShade was just a successful private military company run by the charismatic and mysterious Alexander T Knight whose wealth came from various sources, not least from his long association with the Theron family. The Theron Group, in turn, was a diversified conglomerate spanning the globe. Alex Knight and his protégé, Jax Theron, apart from being on the board of Theron-Knight Atomics, the military defense firm, also headed the covert unit which reported directly to the Secretary of State and five others in the top echelons of the government - The Oversight Committee.

Jax's mission was to identify and neutralize the key leaders of the White Phoenix. Like all similar organizations, the White Phoenix sought world domination. What else.

Operation Sirin, codenamed after the mythological bird from Russian folklore, was now in its final phase of preparation. Hayden and Jordan had developed the technology that would, hopefully, enable them to catch the White Phoenix holding the smoking gun, so to speak. Now, all they needed to do to get the final phase off the ground was to make sure Manuel Vargas took the bait. The sting had not taken long to plan, just years to get the bait ready. Now it was and Vulcan-1 would take them right into the belly of the White Phoenix.

Vulcan-1 had taken years to develop but once it was ready, M31 had set about to construct its provenance. This special cache of arms could not only track where each individual weapon was at any one time, via its RFID chip which was built into the weapon's material, KnightShade D & T's scientists had enabled Vulcan-1 to capture the DNA of everyone who fired the weapon - something no one else could do. Yet.

As for provenance, which was critical to their plan, M31 had sold Vulcan-1 to Vargas last year. Vargas would be able to show that he got his cache from a Theron-Knight Atomics employee. Now, it was left for M31 to buy it back via Luis Salinas Perona D'Aragon, a cover created specifically for this purpose. It had taken M31 eight years to build The Firebird's legend but now, D'Aragon was well-known amongst black market arms dealers and one Vargas sought to do business with. Once D'Aragon got hold of Vulcan-1, M31 hoped it would attract the attention of the White Phoenix. If Luis could, then, sell Vulcan-1 to the White Phoenix, M31 would be able to start tracking the organization and its members through the DNA. Bottomline, they needed to see the names of the White Phoenix leaders come up in the DNA testing. 

* * * * *

Luis carefully separated the flesh of his sea bass from the bone and looked up when a tall man entered the restaurant. Now, that was a prime specimen of male flesh. The horn-rimmed spectacles were cute. Made him look nerdy but cute. Big, too. Too tall and too big not to be noticeable.

The nose was a little too long but still good-looking enough to catch Luis' jaded eye. The newcomer walked past him and an emerald gaze landed and locked on him before flaring with that age-old flame of sexual awareness.

Luis' brow quirked up as he gave the man a long, measured once-over. He played it cool. Luis always did. It was that dumb-ass, Jax, who allowed his humanness to get in the way. How the hell the guy managed to stay alive and get the jobs done was a constant source of amazement when he thought of it. The scary thing was that every now and then, Luis felt Jax taking back control and he couldn't allow that to happen. His alter-ego had too soft a heart and now that they were so close to accomplishing their mission, Luis couldn't let anyone get in the way. Especially not now. Until Operation Sirin was over, Luis needed to be in charge.

Yeah, the KnightShade shrinks weren't happy. Alex wasn't happy and that was worse than the shrinks. But that was Jax's problem, not Luis'.

He gave the tall nerd another glance. He was studying the menu. He'd give him a few minutes then go over and be friendly. Exploring the resort with a companion was often a better idea than snooping around on his own. Less suspicious, easier to explain away if questions were asked.

Those few minutes turned out to be too late, however. Just as he stood up to make his move, three men walked up to his target. One of them clapped a hand on his target's shoulder, followed by greetings and introductions to the other two. The good-looking Latino was clearly an old friend and the other two men, new. The three of them were outfitted in tourist-gear - loose tee shirts featuring flamenco dancers and bullfighters. A comical contrast to his target in his long-sleeved shirt and tie. Luis paid the bill and pulled out a menthol cigarette from his cigarette case as he casually strolled out of the restaurant. He'd look for another decoy.

By Friday, the resort would be full and there would be several guests who would be converging on a town 77 miles away the next morning. There, in a secluded villa, caches of arms would be auctioned off to the highest bidder. He planned to outbid them all.

 

 

_ Meanwhile, in the CIA Hq _

_ Washington DC  _

"It's being taken care of." Bradley assured Haslinger. "I've put his ex-partner in charge of the rescue. It was the only way we could get him to take on the assignment."

"What about Vargas?" Haslinger asked. "We went to great lengths to put the twins in his hands just to set Masterson up. It had better work."

"It's either this or take Masterson out on home ground and we're on the same page here about that. One more dead operative outside of a mission and the higher-ups will come down on me like an avalanche.'

‘I didn't say we want him dead," Haslinger said, his voice curt. "On the contrary, we want him alive.  How co-operative is Vargas?" he asked, switching to the Spaniard abruptly.

"He was told the Petrovsky twins' abduction had been ordered by their father's arch-enemy and he either played ball or find all his supply lines dead. Including him."

"You'd better hope he gets the job done. _Both_ of them. Zhuravylov wants the twins in our possession when time comes to negotiate with Petrovsky for their release and Taggart wants Masterson."

"Why do I have a feeling Zhuravylov doesn't know you're after Masterson?" Bradley asked. "Why do you want him out of the way? Or do you just want _him_?"

"I fail to see what relevance that has to you getting the job done. In fact, I think you should busy yourself with getting Vargas out of the picture once Masterson is in our hands."

"I don't think that's necessary," Bradley answered. "Vargas and I go way back. I've scratched his back enough times for him to want to bend over for me this time.  Besides, he's being very well-compensated for the twins. Extremely well, if you've spoken to Mr. Zhuravylov." _Petrovsky vs Zhuravylov_. _Two Russian titans clashing._ Bradley was glad he wasn't Vargas. Sooner or later, the Spaniard would get trampled underfoot. "At least tell me why you want Masterson if you don't want him dead."

"And again, I ask you - is knowing necessary for you to get the job done?"

"No. Just that I've been waiting for a chance to get at the stuck-up asshole and now that I have it, I thought knowing what else he's done to piss you guys off would sweeten the experience for me."

Haslinger was going to refuse then thought there wasn't any harm in keeping the minions happy once in a while. "Let's just say he walked in on something Taggart didn't want him to see and  we want to make sure he doesn't talk about it."

"But you don't want him dead?" Killing him would have made the job easier, actually, despite what he'd said earlier. Kidnapping was always messy - just look at what they'd had to concoct to get Masterson to co-operate, even unwittingly. Masterson wasn't a five year old who could be bundled off into a car and he'd already been digging around and getting suspicious so the elaborate ruse had been necessary.

"No. Didn't I make that clear?" Haslinger was losing patience. "And make sure Vargas doesn't know who wants Masterson."

Bradley shrugged even though Haslinger couldn't see him. "Whatever you want. I'm just the gopher. Vargas has been told to deliver him to your rep in Istanbul. He knows nothing beyond that."

"Keep it that way."

 

_Wednesday_

_Quinn's hotel room, Puerto Banus_

"He do that every day?" Casey asked, nodding at the closed bathroom door.

"Like clock-work, I'm told," Dave said. "Gets grouchy if he doesn't."

"He's the only guy I know who takes a dump after every lunch," Casey added. "Everyone else does it after breakfast."

"Instead of discussing Masterson's bowel movements," Dante Santorelli looked up from the documents he was perusing. "why don't you go over the blueprints to the villa again?" The two men looked sheepishly at him and went over to the table where the blueprints were laid out.

Quinn emerged from the bathroom just ten minutes later.

"That was fast," Casey muttered under his breath. Dave stifled a laugh.

They spent the rest of the afternoon surreptitiously checking out the hotel before going out and hiring a couple of 4WDs. Dante and the other three agents were booked into a small budget hotel down the road but were now back in Quinn's hotel room going over their strat.

They poured over the plans of the Vargas villa and its surrounding properties, till they knew every building, every road, every path.

 "We're rescuing the rest of the cargo, too?" Quinn asked with a frown. "I thought you told me that wasn't my concern."

"It isn't, babe," Dante replied, giving Quinn a wink. "It's ours," he indicated his team with a wave. "You just focus on the twins. However, we're sure enough that where the twins are, the rest will be, too. Listen up." He spread open the floor plan of Vargas' villa. "Several of those kids are Russian. They were from a larger shipment and likely headed for the  Middle-East and Asian  market. Petrovsky has been actively working with certain international agencies to do something about the human trafficking problem in Russia. This isn't just about his kids."

Dante rubbed a hand down his face then sat heavily on the edge of his bed, propping his arms on his thighs. His good humor and flirting vanishing in an instant, "there're about a dozen girls and boys in this batch aged seven to twelve," he said. "My job is to get the twins out. Yours," he held Quinn's gaze, "is just to pass their location to me. In case we were able to communicate with them, we thought it would be easier having someone they trusted to talk to them and get them to follow instructions. We don't know what they would have gone through by the time we find them and they might not go with just anyone. We don't want them to start screeching if we had to make a grab. That's why I thought of you. They know you. So - you concentrate on the twins. I'll be at your six. Dave and the team will get the rest out."

"Quinn nodded. "Okay." Knowing those little kids weren't going to be left behind made him feel infinitely better. He had wondered why such a large team was needed to rescue to two teens. Now he knew. He turned back to the map of the villa and its surrounding areas. "That's good to know. And here I thought you were nothing but a pretty face."

Dante gave him the finger.

"I'm going to get some ice from the machine," Dave said, grinning.

"And I need to use your loo." Casey headed for the bathroom. "You kids behave for a few minutes," he said before shutting the door.

"I'll make sure you don't get left behind this time," Dante said, softly, when they were left alone. Quinn looked up then. "I'm sorry about what happened in St. Petersburg. Wouldn't have happened if I was there."

Quinn gave him a wry smile. "I know." He looked at the front door and the one to the bathroom then placed his arm around his team-mate, one of the few people he could trust. "But you're here now, and that's good enough." He pulled Dante close and inhaled the warm, spicy scent of the man. "Nice cologne."

Dante reared back to peer at him. "You sure you're not gay? Cos I'm getting mixed signals here."

"I can't appreciate a man's cologne without being labeled gay?"

"Sure you can but not when you sniff at me like a dog in heat."

"Shut up. I'm not gay but if I were, you'd be the first to know."

Dante gave a disappointed huff. "Pity, cos I feel like throwing you down right here and fucking you senseless."

"Cut it out." Quinn pulled away. "Focus, man. Focus."

"Hey, I didn't start it." Dante protested. His expression and voice sobered. "I still think about St. Petersburg. I guess you do, too, huh."

"Yes." Quinn turned away, focusing his eyes on the opposite wall, unable to fend off the memories. Dante had been undercover in South America for the last four years, returning periodically for a few days at a time. They'd met and worked together briefly when Quinn first came on board but was shipped out less than a week before Quinn left for what was to be a simple SAR operation in the Russian city. Only he'd gotten caught in a double-cross and was left behind as collateral damage. Captured and incarcerated for two weeks, his government managed to negotiate for his return through Petrovsky. By then, enough damage had been done and the scars would be a constant and relentless reminder.

"I'll be watching over you all the way this time." Dante gave him a smile which had broken more hearts than he wanted to admit.

"Thanks," Quinn responded quietly. The bathroom door opened and Casey came out just as Dave returned with the bucket of ice.

"Now this is the plan of the villa and the periphery,"  Dante began, turning his attention back to the blueprints. "This is the tracking device with an alert signal." He took out a signet ring from a box and slipped it on Quinn's middle finger.

"You may not be able to use your cell phone for any number of reasons - no signal, damaged or you're not alone and have no access to a phone. Of course, if it's possible, call us by all means. If I don't get a call, I'll assume you can't and that's when this little tracking ring comes in handy.

"While we'll be able to find you no matter where you are, the device can only locate a flat position. Meaning, it can pinpoint the exact spot you're in on the floor plan but can't tell _which_ floor you're on." Dante gave a grimace. "Sorry, but that's what I managed to get at such short notice without it getting to Bradley's ears. It'll have to do and it isn't all that difficult to figure out. The villa has three floors and all three are different," he continued. "If we get a signal here," he pointed to a spot on the villa's plan. "We'll know you're on the ground floor because the upper two floors do not extend out there.  We won't waste time searching the upper floors. If your signal is there," he jabbed at another point on the third sheet, "We'll know you're on the top floor. Not hundred per cent fail proof, but still something.

"That's tracking _you_ but the real money's on the signal alert. You send that out as soon as you know where the twins are. You use this ring to send out the signals, too. Signal One means you are confirming that the twins are on their way to Vargas' villa. Signal Two means you are within five hundred meters of the twins. Signal Three and it means you and the twins are in the same place - room or vehicle for example. Now, watch how to send each signal."

Quinn nodded when Dante had finished showing him. "Got it."

"We won't be further than five hundred meters from the villa at any one time," Dante reminded Quinn. "But our next move will depend on your signals. Once you send Signal Three, expect extraction within fifteen minutes."

"He could be transporting them by sea," Quinn suggested. "We are right on the coast, after all."

"We are expecting that," Dave piped up. "Vargas has a yacht, Joya del Mar, though we think it's more likely he'll use one of the fishing trawlers. Less conspicuous in that part of the port." 

"In any case, we have a Zodiac on standby to infiltrate by sea." Dante added. "It all depends on your signals and your tracker. If we see you heading for the coast and we get a signal, Tom will be ready for the pickup. Casey and Beth will be with him." He folded up the map, checked the tracker and his receiver before turning to Quinn. "Anymore questions? If not, I going to get me some beauty sleep."

"No questions for now," Quinn replied. "I'll do a recce of the hotel tomorrow. Vargas is due back tonight and I have an appointment with him tomorrow."

"Time?" Dante asked.

"Nine hundred hours at Vargas' office. I'll scout around after that and maybe catch you guys for lunch unless I can do that with Vargas."

"Dave and I are going to check out the night life," Casey announced, getting up and moving to the door. "See if we can pick up some info. The bellhop's cousin works in one of the tapas bars nearby. Used to work in Vargas' villa. Bound to get something there."

"What about Beth?" Dante asked.

"She's on the line with Tom, keeping him in the loop and running through our strat. We'll see if she wants to come along."

"Okay, see you guys in the morning, then." Dante stretched. "I'm heading back to my room. I need to crash," he said to Quinn. "I flew in straight from Rio and my assignment there was a fuck-up. Almost didn't make it out. He grimaced. "Could do with some downtime after this."

"Call me," Quinn said. "We'll chill out together. I've a feeling I'm going to owe you one after this assignment."

"Don't worry, babe," Dante said. "I'll collect when I'm desperate and horny one of these days!" He winked. "Oh wait - don't use your cell phone. Use this one while we're here." He passed Quinn the phone he dug out of his holdall. "Don't forget to eat the sim card afterwards."

Quinn gave him a droll look under his brows and shook his head.

 Dante punched Quinn's chest lightly with his fist. "Stay safe, amico."

Quinn muttered something in response and opened the door. He couldn't help having a bad feeling about this.

 

_Dateline: Same night_

_Location: Staz & Nick's hotel room; Rota_

Jax rang the bell of the hotel room and the door was opened by a man huge enough to block out the sunlight behind him. Standing six-foot seven in his bare feet, Vincent Stanislaus, or ‘Staz', was simply physically overwhelming. With his shaved head, shadowed jaw and a broken nose he'd refused to let KnightShade's surgeons fix, Staz wouldn't win any beauty contests and that was just the way he liked it. Behind him stood Nick, pretty as they come, holding up a can of Perrier and looking delicate next to his giant room-mate. That is if you could call an ex-Navy SEAL with the body of an Olympic swimmer delicate. But Nick was, next to Staz.

"Hey, Boss," Staz greeted Jax as he entered their hotel room in his Luis d'Aragon disguise. "You look good with long hair." He flicked a few strands of Jax's mahogany locks and chuckled at Jax's growl. "Like the five o'clock shadow, boss. Helps to cover up your dimples."

"How many times have I told you to stop fucking calling me ‘boss'? Give me the latest."  Jax dropped into the armchair.

"Sure, Bo - bro." Staz grinned. "Intel just came in. There's a hit put out on Vargas, supposed to go down on Saturday during the auction. We gotta get our hands on Vulcan-1 by Friday night latest."

"Shit." Jax prowled around the room, clearly not happy with the news. Vargas was a new player but the man's heavy-handedness hadn't won him any friends or favors in the underworld. On the contrary, there was a hit out on him just about every month, maybe less, by some competitor or other whose toes he'd stepped on.

"Any chance of getting the deal done tomorrow?" Nick asked. "Friday's cutting it a bit close. The hit may not eventuate like the last two but it also might end up successful."

And they couldn't risk that. If Vargas got offed before the buyback, it would set them back indefinitely. They'd have to steal the cache back, find another decoy and set the sting up all over again. He guessed they could use Hierra if worse came to worst but Hierra was still a distant second to Vargas who had been seen in the company of at least two of the White Phoenix leaders.

"Vargas is tied up the whole week," Jax replied. "He's invited me to join him and some business associates for dinner tomorrow night but I doubt if he'll be available for a post-dinner meeting. Our only chance is to wrangle an invitation back to his villa on Friday and kick-start negotiations there."

"Shouldn't be too hard to get invited back to his place," Nick said, tossing a Perrier from the bar fridge to Jax.

"No, that won't be difficult," Jax caught the can with one hand, popped the lid and drank thirstily. "But getting Vargas to entertain a sale to me privately will be. He's got prospective buyers coming all the way from China and India and he'll want to impress. Taking Vulcan-1 off the auction list would dull the excitement of the auction considerably. After all, they are interested precisely because they'd be the first to get hold of these weapons. Not a single one of them are in use by the military yet."

"But money talks, yeah?" Staz sat on the armchair next to the bed where Nick had stretched out in his Gregg Homme briefs, his can of Perrier sitting on his flat belly. "We just up the ante. Last time I checked, we had pockets deep enough to buy Vulcan-1, 2 and 3 and there isn't even a Vulcan-3." He tried to ignore the sight of Nick's semi-hard cock visible through the mesh of his designer underwear. "Why the hell can't you wear normal underwear?" Staz snapped Nick. "What the fuck kind of briefs are those? I can see your package right through that netting!"

Nick smirked at him. "That's the whole idea."

"The money's not the issue," Jax said, ignoring the byplay. "Vargas needs more than just money to gain some street cred. He needs a client as a referral that will stop the doubts about his ability to play with the big boys."

"Right." Nick took another drink from his Perrier. "He needs The Firebird!" He added with a flourish.

"Exactly. Having that morsel to throw to his clients is something that'll get his juices running." Jax paused momentarily. "It would mean displaying that damned tattoo, though."

"Won't be for too long," Nick said. "Is it still hurting you?"

"I'll live," Jax replied.

"Be good to get it off, eh?" Staz said. The Firebird tattoo was just one of the reasons why they wanted the op to be over. Staz was aware, more than any of them, how much it cost Jax to keep that alter-ego - his bedroom was next to Jax's and he'd had to go to his CO's room and grab hold of him when the nightmares got too bad and he had to wake him up. Staz would spend the rest of the night in Jax's bed in case he got another nightmare. Jax never asked him why he was in his bed when they awoke. He'd just curl his arm around Staz's massive chest and nuzzle him. He never pushed Jax away even though he wasn't into men.

"And Nick, you have to stop wearing those provocative briefs or I'm going to jump your bones one of these days." Jax warned.

"Nuh-unh. I'm saving myself for Staz." Nick grinned but put the can of Perrier away to cover his erection with a pillow.

"In your dreams, slut!" Staz shot back, his ears going visibly red despite his darkly-tanned skin.

"C'mon, Staz," Nick said, in a cajoling tone. "I'm telling you - there's no greater feeling than a hard cock up my ass. And I tell you, my ass is just begging you to fuck it."

"Shut up." Staz snarled. "Just. Shut. Up. I'm not gay. Get that into your fat head. And you know which head I mean."

"I didn't think I was either." Nick said, his voice taking on a serious tone. "Into guys, that is. Now, I think it helps me stay centered."

Staz looked guilty suddenly. "Shit. I'm sorry." Staz apologized as the memories of Nick's past came to mind.

 If it works for you, fine. But me...I'm a ladies man."

Nick sighed melodramatically. "I know. But when you decide you can't fight it anymore and am ready to admit you want me, come get me." He made come-hither gestures with both hands, shoving the dark memories and thoughts back down.

 _Oh yes? And what about your Dom_ , Jax wanted to ask. Instead he laughed and stood up. "Okay, let's make some calls. Staz, you connect with Rota. Tell them we're rescheduling. Nick, get Rohan to stand by for same. I'll go get us a few more millions to play with."

"Rescheduling Rota is going to take some verbal gymnastics on the director's part," Staz said.

"I'll talk to him first," Jax said. "He'll have POTUS call Admiral Clark. You follow through after that and tell Rota to be ready for the transfer. As soon as I get the contract signed I'll call you and let you know the ETA of V-1. Once we know Vargas's got V-1 on board his fishing trawler, Rota can take delivery within an hour of the notification. I'll leave the villa as soon as he gives orders to his man for the transfer." He tabbed the buttons on his KnightFone and waited for the pick-up.

"Just be prepared for changes," Nick murmured. Unnecessary reminder, he knew, but what the heck. "Nine out of ten missions, last minute changes screw up the mission and this is Op Sirin we're talking about."

Jax acknowledged that with a quick nod and turned his attention to the phone as Alex came on the line. Less than ten minutes later, Jax had the okay for the extra funds for the V-1 buyback.

 

 

\----------------------------

tbc

 


	5. PART ONE - Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Quinn can hardly take his eyes off Luis but he needs to get his mind off the Argentinean and wrangle a weekend to casa Vargas. ___

_ Thursday morning;  _

_ Casa de Suenos _

 Puerto Banus is more a large marina with a town than the other way around. Situated on the Costa del Sol, it used to be the playground of choice for the rich and famous of Europe. By the nineties, however, the twentieth century haute ton found their favorite haunt becoming overcrowded with the bourgeoisie, resulting in their heading for less plebeian locales.

Not all was lost, of course, as Puerto Banus had an excellent marina where the tycoons and Saudis still stopped by as they cruised the Med. This continued to bring in a steady stream of celebutantes and fashionistas; though how long before their fickleness dropped the port from their itinerary remained to be seen. Now, it seemed, there was a reason for the Beautiful People to return - La Casa de Suenos - The House of Dreams.

Vargas sat outside his private office suite, in the patio overlooking the pool area. He was proud of what he'd achieved in the last three years, modeling the hotel and casino.

In spite of this, Vargas had been toying with a change of strategy. Luxury resorts were found everywhere around the world. He needed something different. Something truly exclusive. Some specialty that only Casa de Suenos could offer. He'd found that catering to clients with "special needs" was extremely lucrative yet even that had not been enough. His hobnobbing with that particular segment of humanity - or more aptly, inhumanity - had accidentally put him in contact with the truly powerful people, the ones that made the real money.

Weapons-dealing, it appeared, was the way to go. He'd gotten word that a well-known Argentinean entrepreneur, Luis Salinas Perona d'Aragon was interested in finding a suitable business to buy into. Nothing special about that. Senor Perona had a diversified business that spanned the globe. No, it was the reason behind his intended purchase that interested Vargas. It seemed the Argentinean was looking for a way to make the trafficking of his ‘goods' more efficient. He wanted a European-Mediterranean gateway to complement his North-South American one. Vargas had gotten in touch with the Argentinean's people and in the course of discussions, found out that Perona was more interested in cold hardware than in hot young flesh and had hinted that if Vargas knew of new supplies in the market, to let them know.

He'd fought hard to get his hands on a very special shipment. One that would be certain to whet the appetite of the Argentinean. Vargas needed his patronage. It would gain him the respect he needed to become a major player. This cache in his possession had come from the Theron-Knight plant. How did he come by them? Surely they didn't expect him to reveal his sources! They were free to come for a private inspection, of course, but if their boss wanted to get his hands on the cache, he'd have to bid for it like the rest at the auction. But Luck had smiled on him and the Firebird himself was attending the event! Vargas needed to make sure this guy was the real Firebird, however, remembering the fiasco a few years ago, but he knew just how to do that.

 "Hola! Luis, over here." He called out to the tall gentleman in blinding white.

Luis smiled, his white teeth a stark contrast, like his attire, to the dark tan of his skin. Vargas watched as both men and women ogled openly as he made his way to their table. Tall for someone of Spanish descent, he very likely had some other European blood in him, Vargas concluded. His own five feet ten was more the norm. D'Aragon was at least six three and built like one of those Renaissance sculptures. Except for the dick. D'Aragon apparently had a big one, unlike those puny things on the statues.

Vargas rose. "Buenos Dias, Senor d'Aragon." He held out his arms in greeting. "Come, have breakfast with me."

"Buenos Dias." Luis returned the greeting, embracing the Spaniard.

Vargas snapped his fingers and a waiter rushed to his side.

"Just coffee for me," Luis said. "Black."

"It is an honor to have you at my resort, Senor d'Aragon.," Vargas said. "My apologies for not being here to greet you when you arrived. I only concluded my business yesterday and flew in last night."

Luis waved away the apology. "Your staff  have been taking excellent care of me. And please call me Luis. A fine place you have created here." Luis' gaze swept the grounds, taking in the scantily-clad sun worshippers. "Fine people, too."

Vargas was about to say something when his secretary came up to him. "Senor Vargas, Senor Matthews is here for his nine o'clock appointment." She stepped aside for Harry who stretched out his hand to Vargas.

"Buenos Dias, Senor Vargas. Harry Matthews."

"Ah, yes. Mr. Matthews. We are just about to have breakfast. Do join us."

 Harry took the seat the waiter held out for him."Thank you. I've already had breakfast but a cup of coffee would be nice."

"Mr. Matthews, this is a good friend - Luis! Have a seat. You can do your flirting later. Mr. Matthews, meet my good friend, Luis Salinas Perona D'Aragon."

Harry found himself looking at a tall, tanned, incredibly handsome man. Vargas' friend wore a loose kimono-sleeve sheer white top over an equally-sheer silk tank top. Through the semi-transparent material, the shadowed darkness of his nipples were visible. His white pants was some kind of soft loose-flowing material and hanging low from his hips. The man looked he'd just stepped off the pages of some European male fashion mag. The black eye-patch only added to his magnetism, as did the dark five o'clock shadow.

Harry was hooked and trying very hard not to show it. He'd never been so affected before. Why now? Why a man? Midlife crisis? He was only in his early thirties, for God's sake! He couldn't deny it,. though. Luis was one heck of a sexy guy and making him feel things he thought he'd buried away never to be unearthed.

"Luis, this is Harry Matthews," Vargas introduced. "He is here for the auction."

"Buenos dias, Mr. Matthews." Luis took the hand Harry proffered, holding on to it longer than was necessary. He saw the flare of interest before it was overtaken by alarm and chuckled softly. They were all the same, these closet cases. Delicious to break in, though. He wondered if he could spare the time.

"Please to meet you, Senor D'Aragon." Harry pulled his hand back. "My employer," Harry turned to Vargas. "Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid Al-Jabhir, extends his greetings to you and apologizes for not being able to be here personally."

Vargas waved away the apology. "No apology needed nor  expected. Please tell your employer I am most honored that he is interested in doing business with me. I will have a good showing so if you can tell me what your boss is looking for, I'm sure I will have something to offer him. But come, let us eat first."

"How long will you be in Puerto Banus?" Luis asked Harry he took a swallow of the hot black brew.  He wondered who the sheihk's rep's friends were, the ones he saw going up to him yesterday.

"Just until the auction is over, Senor D'Aragon," Harry replied, still stunned by the man's looks. He'd heard of the Argentinean entrepreneur but never met him. He's read that D'Aragon had lost an eye in a fight or an accident. The resultant eye patch  and the scar running down his right cheek to the corner of his top lip, giving it a sensual curl - they both added to the man's aura of danger and sex. "And call me Harry."

Harry, who had never, _ever_ , thought about men in that way, found himself captivated and he didn't like it one bit. He couldn't peel his eyes away from the Argentinean even though he wanted to. The man made him uncomfortable even if his voice was rich and smooth like hot chocolate.

"Harry," Luis mulled over the name. "I haven't met a Harry your age before. All the ones I know are my grandparents' age. Or, if they are young, still in schools like Ludgrove or Eton."

"I was named for my grandfather and great grandfather, as a matter of fact. Harold Ebenezer Matthews, Senior." And picked precisely to give him an old-fashioned image, down to the Clark Kent glasses and slicked-down light sandy hair.

 The waiter arrived with their black coffee and Vargas' café con leche and churros.

Vargas chatted with Harry, addressing Luis now and then. The latter was intrigued by the American and let him and Vargas talk while he studied the newcomer. He hadn't mistaken the interest earlier back in the restaurant but didn't miss the denial here either. It was clear Harry Matthews was still struggling with his sexual orientation and hadn't quite come to terms with it.

He watched Harry as the man discussed his boss' preferences. Vargas knew Luis wasn't interested in kids and preferred men so he didn't try to draw Luis into the conversation. Luis cursed silently as he listened from the sidelines as Harry and Vargas discussed the Sunday auction. _Sunday_ auction? So Harry wasn't here for the Saturday weapons bidding. Luis let the two men continue their discussion while he listened in. The Sunday auction was for Vargas' vice trade. Not his business. Luis shrugged mentally.

Nevertheless, his lips curled in distaste. He shot Harry another glance, mulling over the fact that he was involved in something like that. Why would I surprised, Luis snorted to himself. He'd seen and done enough himself that nothing should surprise him. As the Firebird, he'd shown no discrimination either, when it came to getting what he needed. And Jax Theron was nowhere near being an angel either. That the two men were one and the same was something he himself wanted to forget at times but not just yet. Not today, at any rate.

Today, and until Op Sirin was over, no one except his team and their director, could know. He might have to prove to Vargas that he was the infamous Firebird but that would be all. He'd cultivated Vargas' friendship for a few years now, ever since M31 targeted him as someone they could use to get to the White Phoenix. All Vargas knew was that Luis was an Argentinean businessman seeking to expand his interests into Europe and had chosen Spain as his base. What Vargas had not expected was that Luis also dealt in black-market arms.

It had taken some persuasion before Vargas trusted him enough to tell him about his newly-acquired cache of arms which would fetch top dollar. A cache that was sold to him as part of the M31 sting. For that, M31 had utilized another scum, Eduardo Hierra, who operated out of Florida. Luis had bought kids off Hierra enough times to have become a valued customer. Hierra's referral to Vargas had brought Luis onto the resort-owner's radar. At first, M31 had thought Hierra was the pointman for the White Phoenix in the US and could lead them to the leaders but their surveillance did not lead anywhere useful as far as Op Sirin was concerned. Still, Hierra was kept on M31's list. When they were done with him, the authorities could have him. If M31 didn't kill him first.

He tuned back in to the conversation between Vargas and Matthews. Vargas was trying to set Harry up, if the snippets of conversation were anything to go by. Probably trying to fix a ‘date' for Luis since Vargas knew Luis swung both ways. He let his gaze sweep over Harry and was surprised by the unfamiliar pang of guilt. If Harry didn't make himself scarce, he was going to end up as collateral damage. Once the Firebird was in operation, there was no room for conscience. Too much was at stake. He thought of the men who had died trying to dismantle the White Phoenix. It was way past time for the casualties to come from the enemy camp instead of his.

Still, menthol cigarette poised between his lips, Luis watched Harry through his half-closed good eye and thought there might be space for some pleasure until the auction on Saturday. Whatever it was, something about Harry did register in his brain. Lower down on his anatomy, to be more accurate and yes, he was surprised. He'd never found sandy blondes attractive. He must be getting bored.

They drank and chatted for awhile more before Harry announced he had to run some errands for his employer. Vargas had another appointment coming up but invited both men to join him and some business associates for dinner that night.

"Will you be staying for the auction on Sunday?" Harry asked Luis as they walked back inside the hotel.

"No, I will be leaving on Saturday, perhaps Friday evening." Luis smiled at him. "How about meeting up for lunch later?"

"I'm sorry, my errands will take me all day."

"Too bad. I'll see you at dinner though I may not make that. In case I do not, I wish you the best of luck. May your employer be pleased with his new acquisition. And, perhaps, we may meet again somewhere, some day, Mr. Matthews." Luis doubted it but said it, anyway.

Left with the day free, Luis contemplated all of five minutes whether to take up the offers thrown his way by two twinks as well as a topless redhead in a white thong, her large surgically-enhanced breasts defying gravity. He opted for lunch with Staz and Nick instead, updating them on Harry Matthews and the second auction on Sunday. It didn't impact their plans so they could relax and wait. They were experts at the second one, after all.

 

_7.00pm Thursday;_

_The Caja de la Joya_

The Caja de la Joya was the place to see and be seen in. Vargas and Harry made the way to their reserved table where three stunning women were already seated and sipping cocktails.

"Buenas noches, my birds of paradise." Vargas embraced each woman then introduced Harry.

It went without saying that the women squealed their delight in having a new distraction. Or prey, Harry thought as he complimented each one on her looks or dress. More drinks were ordered and the women fawned over Harry until suddenly, one of them shrieked, causing Harry to reach for his gun before remembering he wasn't carrying.

"Loo-eees!" They all screeched in unison, their shrill voices raking into Harry's senses but didn't stop him from noticing the man sauntering in and making his way smoothly to their table. He took in the breadth of Luis' shoulders and the way the long, lean, but muscular, body filled out the suit.

And was sure his mouth watered.

_Fuck. I'm gay._

* * * * *

Dinner was superb. Of course. Vargas' hospitality impressing his dozen or so guests except, perhaps Luis, who absorbed everything in that faintly blasé manner he had. Everything Harry knew about Luis came from business articles featuring up-and-coming South American businessmen. Apart from that, Luis was an unknown to him since he had never figured in any of his assignments. Not that that was unusual. His AOR when he still with the CIA had been restricted to Asia and most of it very mundane work - trolling the cocktail circuit to pick up the chatter going around.

He tried to pretend interest in the conversation around him but much of it escaped him since it mostly centered around local celebrities and who was sleeping with whom. It was only when their places were cleared for coffee and dessert that the opportunity to get himself into Vargas' villa appeared.

"I hear the best sherry comes from the Jerez region," Harry said, when the waiter appeared with a bottle.

"It certainly does." Vargas pointed a finger at Harry. "You must have some of mine. Nothing else can compare after that! Not even this one." He pointed to the one the waiter was serving.

"I certainly would like to have that pleasure," Harry said. "I didn't know you have a vineyard. The sheikh would be most impressed." Harry leaned in to Vargas and said in a low voice, "he isn't a practicing Muslim but his title and position requires him to display at least the semblance of one. It would please him immensely if I could bring back a bottle of your sherry for him."

"I would not expect you to do anything less," Vargas said, "I am leaving for my villa tomorrow evening. Do come have dinner with me. I'm sure I'll be able to provide suitable entertainment, and you'll be refreshed by Sunday for the auction. I will certainly give you my best bottle for His Excellency."

Luis paused in his conversation with the guest next to him, a well-known Spanish tenor, as he heard Harry accept Vargas' invitation. Switching his attention to Vargas smoothly, he inquired if Vargas would be driving up to his villa on Saturday morning and if so, if he could ride with him. "It would save me having to hire a car and driving up myself." He needed to be at Vargas' villa before Saturday to try and persuade him to sell V-1 and this looked like the ideal a way to get himself there.

 "I am flying up tomorrow evening in my chopper," Vargas said. "Harry has accepted my invitation to come up for the weekend and I was just about to ask if you would like to join us. We can have an evening to ourselves before the crowd arrives on Saturday."

Luis flicked a glance at Harry. "Thank you. I certainly look forward to spending more time with Senor Harry."

 Could a man’s voice sound like hot melted chocolate, Harry wondered, deciding that Luis’ did, anyway. Harry felt as if Luis could see through his eye-patch as the good eye stared piercingly into him as if scanning him to uncover secrets. "And I look forward to your company, Luis." He countered smoothly. "I've visited Argentina and find it intriguing."

"Ah, so you know I'm from Argentina," Hot Chocolate remarked, as if that told him something important.

"Top Fifty Businessmen of South America." Harry provided, by way explanation.

 "Senor d'Aragon comes from a very distinguished, old Argentinean family," Vargas told him. " His middle name, Salinas, is his mother's family name, and he is his mother's favorite, so he tells me. Her pet name for him is Sali.

"And he's my favorite, too!" One of the girls threw in.

"Because he's got a big you-know-what," Another girl added. The rest of the women giggled and started trading notes.

"I'll call him Sali, then." Harry said.

"Like the movie, When Harry Met Sally." The girls trilled with laughter as if it was the wittiest thing ever. Harry rolled his eyes and couldn't wait for the evening to end.

"Tell me, Harry," Luis' said, his good whiskey-colored eye glittered under the restaurant's lighting. "Do South American women appeal to you?"

Harry smiled and took a sip of his coffee. "More South American women than women from any other nation have won world beauty titles and I can see why - I personally find them the most beautiful in the world."

"That wasn't quite what I asked," Luis murmured, "but I'll let you go. For now."

 

_________________

tbc


	6. PART ONE - Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _As Luis negotiates the buy-back of Vulcan 1 from Vargas, Quinn is busy trying to verify the location of the Petrovsky twins. Things are about to get nasty soon. ___

_Friday evening, Sanlucar de Barrameda;_

_northwest of Cádiz province, Southern Spain_

 It was already seven p.m. by the time Vargas' chopper landed on the grounds of his villa, his staff lining the front steps awaiting his arrival. Luis had decided to drive up after all and arrived just as Harry emerged from the helicopter.

Harry took note of the armed guards at the gatehouse and the ones strolling through the grounds with their shoulder holsters open to view. So did Luis, he noticed. Apart from the initial hellos, the two men hadn't spoken more than two sentences to each other, which suited Harry fine. Vargas told them they could freshen up then meet on the terrace for drinks in half an hour.

So far so good, though the clock was ticking away loudly in his brain. He hoped the twins were arriving as the intel had it. Or, at least by tomorrow night. If they weren't he might have to stay for the auction to see if they were brought in then. If so, it would make it more difficult to extract them. Not impossible, just messier and riskier. Plan B was in place, but one always hoped it wouldn't be needed.

* * * * *

In his room, Luis took a shower, checking his Firebird tattoo one more time. Whatever he needed to do, would have to be done tonight and that meant making sure everything embedded in him was in good working order before he left his room. He'd spent the morning with Staz and Nick at their hotel, running through the plan and testing the tattoo. An invention of Hayden Langley, his head of Cybernetics & Bionics, the tattoo changed color based on his hormone - oxytocin, testosterone and other androgen  - levels. He didn't have a problem with that. What he didn't care for was that the hormone levels required to trigger the change occurred during orgasm. He'd have to beat off to test it and hoped he wouldn't need the tat tonight. He had no desire to fuck Vargas though he would if he needed to.

He brushed his fingertip across his belly button. A dime-sized disk had been inserted in his navel. "Just stick your finger in your belly button and press." Hayden had told him. "That activates the tat. About thirty, thirty-five seconds after you press the button the it will appear. As your arousal increases, the tat will change color starting from your stratum basal - the deepest layer of the epidermis-  through to your stratum corneum, the uppermost layer."

Jax had thrown him a look that made Hayden quickly add, "It fades away once your orgasm subsides. Nothing to it."                           

Cursing irritably, he brought himself to orgasm, spraying the shower wall with thick ropes of his come then stepping out of the shower to check the tat. Yup. It was in good working order.

Washing himself off and breathless from the entire process, Luis dried himself off and got ready to face the evening ahead.

* * * * *

Harry punched Dante's number on his cell as he walked to the window of the bedroom he was shown into. "Hi," He said when Dante answered on the first ring. "Just got in. I'm in my room. Third floor, east wing. Going down now for drinks then dinner.

"Yeah, we saw the chopper landing," Dante said in reply. "Listen. Intel just got in. The twins may not arrive until tomorrow night. Our contact couldn't give us more."

"Tomorrow night! Fuck. And here I was, hoping to get out of here tonight.

Dante gave a short laugh. "Hey, makes it easier for you to check the place out especially with the catering staff, security personnel and guests wandering around."

"Going to cut it very close, though." Harry blew out an exasperated breath. "I'd rather not do the extraction with a hundred people crawling over the place, half of them carrying enough firepower to blow me all the back to Santorini."

"Same here," Dante concurred. "It's going to be tough getting the twins away with all that heat walking around so let's hope they arrive when it's dark, which is more likely."

Harry agreed. "They're going to have to be transferred to and from the villa at some point so that's the best time. In any case, I should be sending out Signal One, at least, by the time the auction begins on Sunday. If we're lucky, even Signal Two.

There was a moment of silence from Dante before he spoke again. "Let's try for Signal Two. And whatever, amico, know that I won't leave you behind. I've got you covered and that part of the plan doesn't change no matter what - you got me? I won't be leaving without you. You copy?"

"Careful. Or I'll start to think you're in love with me." Harry chuckled. "But yeah. I copy." His voice softened. "Thanks."

"Listen,"  Dante's voice sounded his concern. "You could find yourself thrown in the same hellhole as the twins so I'm expecting Signal Three, too." Signal Three - to indicate he and the twins were in the same room. Knowing this in advance would enable the rescue team to plan their moves with more accuracy. It would mean no extra time was needed to locate the twins and it would be a full extraction, meaning all the targets would be extracted within that same time frame.

"Okay, I gotta get my ass downstairs," Harry said. We're having drinks before dinner. He's got another guest staying over. Luis D'Aragon, an Argentinean businessman."

"Okay. Stay safe and call in again later."

"If I don't then it means something's happening."

"Call, anyway. Try." Dante ended the call without waiting for a response.

* * * * *

Harry made his way down, trying to locate the way to the sala and terrace but the maze of rooms made him pause. The floor below the bedrooms were laid out differently and it was taking longer than he expected to find his way to the ground level. But why waste an opportunity to reconnoiter right now? Claiming to be lost wouldn't be implausible with this sprawling property. Opening a door, Harry stepped in soundlessly into a room filled with shelves of books that looked as if they hadn't been touched, much less read, in the last century even though the shelves themselves were relatively dust-free. Vargas' voice could be heard from another room. Not loud but audible through the open door. Moving stealthily closer to the inner room, he peered in and saw Vargas talking on the land line in what looked like a small office. Moving back in case Vargas looked up and saw him, Harry pressed back against the wall and listened.

 "Yes, I have him," Vargas told whoever it was on the line. "Are you sure that's what you want?"

A small pause then Vargas said, "It will be as you wish. I will send it to you in glorious technicolor." Vargas said, sarcasm lacing his voice. Another pause, then, "consider it done." The man on the other end hung up without another word. Muttering an expletive, Vargas slammed the receiver down. Hearing Vargas moving, Harry quickly opened the door nearest to him and slipped inside. It was a toilet and he hoped Vargas didn't feel like taking a leak.

Vargas walked out of his office into his study then out into the hallway where Ramon was waiting.

"Everything in order?" Vargas asked his chief of security.

"Yes, senor Vargas."

"Any word about the shipment?"

"Not since it left but I am expecting an update soon," Ramon replied.

Vargas gave a curt nod and turned down the hallway. "Keep me informed." He gave patted his pocket. "Ah, I left my cell phone in the study."

"I will get it and bring it down to you," Ramon said. He turned back towards the study as Vargas headed down the stairs. He opened the door to find Harry's hand around the door handle on the other side.

"Oh, hi. How do I get to the stairs?" Harry asked, without missing a beat. Damn. Just thirty seconds earlier and he would have been sauntering down the hallway scot-free.

"What are you doing in there?" Ramon demanded. "That is Senor Vargas' private rooms."

"I'm sorry. The door wasn't locked. I got kinda lost. This mansion is a labyrinth! I thought that might lead me to the stairway." _Yeah. Bloody likely._ "But it was a library, I think, then I saw the bathroom and used it. Haven't been since yesterday, you know." Harry grinned at the guard. "Anyway, you'd better show me the way down. Senor Vargas will be wondering what happened to me."

Ramon pointed Harry in the right direction and watched him go down the corridor and down the stairs before going back into the study to retrieve Vargas' cell phone.

Harry made his way down, running into Vargas as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

"There you are!" Vargas smiled. "I was about to come to your room and get you."

"Sorry. I got a little lost."

"Come, Luis is already on the terrace."

"Who's he?" Harry nodded in Ramon's direction as the man turned round a corner.

"Ramon. My chief of security."

"He's rather heavily-armed. So are the other guards I saw. I hope you are not expecting trouble."

Vargas chuckled. "No, I am not but I have several important clients attending and I cannot be too careful."

"Looks like you're expecting a good turn-out. So how much extra muscle did you have to hire?" 

"None. Ramon and his men are sufficient. My clients bring their own security."

They stepped out onto the terrace where Luis was already seated, leisurely smoking a cigarette. Harry gave him a quick glance, noticing how his well-defined muscles showed under the sheer material of his shirt and his powerful thigh muscles stretched the soft caramel-colored pants.

Fuck, I _really_ am gay _._ Harry took the seat furthest away from Luis and asked for a beer when the houseboy came round to ask what they wanted to drink.

Conversation over the next half hour revolved around Vargas' vineyards and his award-winning sherries. It segued into the management of resorts with Luis reiterating his interest in expanding his business into this area of leisure and entertainment. Harry took the opportunity to excuse himself, asking if Vargas minded him taking a look at his garden as he was a keen horticulturist and noticed he had a carnation garden, the national flower of Spain.

Luis quirked up a brow and gave Harry an amused glance. Harry was tempted to give him the finger but ignored him instead and, permission granted by Vargas, went down the short flight of steps leading to the garden.

"Don't go beyond the garden border," Vargas called out after him. "Ramon's got the dogs out on a training exercise and our dinner will be ready in an hour."

"No prob," Harry replied, not that he cared about Ramon and his dogs. "I'll be back by then. See ya, Sally."

Sally? Luis' brows drew together. "Did he call me Sally?" He looked at Vargas who laughed.

"Si.  I told him it's your mother's pet name for you."

"It's pronounced SAH-li, with an 'i'," Jax corrected Harry.

"I beg your pardon, Harry apologized. "Sah-li with an 'i' it is."

Vargas found Luis' annoyance hugely amusing, for some reason. Luis smoothly changed the subject, moving on to the possibility of acquiring one of the myriad little islands in the Philippines for his private resort.

 * * * * *

Leaving the two men to talk, Harry made his way around the multi-leveled terraces awash with colorful blooms spilling from huge terracotta pots. It was easy to spot the carnation garden just off from the fountain, the rose garden next to it. Randomly-placed iron-wrought benches allowed guests to enjoy the tranquility of the garden, its flowers set off by a dark green backdrop of non-flowering shrubs.

He wouldn't have a problem if Vargas - though  more likely it would be Luis - asked him what he thought of the gardens. He'd learnt a lot from Sam, his step-dad who ran a landscaping business, about various trees and flowers. He had even suggested that the company offer a tree house building service since Harry had an landscape architecture degree and Sam's nephew was an architect. It was, in fact, an interest he had kept up, planning to join the family business full-time one day - when he got his fill of blood and gore or he got injured too badly to go back in the field. He paused and wondered if horticulture and landscaping was a pretty gay thing to do.  He shoved aside that thought as if it had no right to invade his head.

He reached the carnation garden and gave the plants a cursory check, enough to name some if necessary then followed the path until he came to a small gate. Opening it, he found himself stepping out of the villa's interior gardens and out onto the extensive grounds. He kept an eye out for Ramon's dogs.

The villa, the main building on the map, was three stories high and surrounded by a high security wall. A smaller building, probably the staff quarters stood not too far off and was connected to the main house by a covered pathway overhung by flowering vines of some kind. Clematis, he noted, as he came closer and the fragrance reached him.

He stepped quickly behind a clump of thick shrubs when a truck ground noisily to a halt in front of the staff quarters and guttural shouts followed. He peered through and watched two men come out of the annex to stand at the back of the truck while a third unlocked the metal doors at the back of the truck. The driver and another guy hopped down from the front, gesticulating and laughing with the others. Five men, including the driver. Ramon was there, holding back two Doberman Pinschers who were barking furiously.

Harry made a dash to the adjacent building and hid behind the wall to put more distance between himself and the dogs. He couldn't tell what the building he was taking cover from was but nearby were a row of contiguous buildings and he definitely heard a whinny or two.

From his vantage point, he saw more men jumping out of the back of the truck. He gave his watch a quick check. He needed to get back. Vargas would be looking for him any minute. He was just about to head back to the garden when he heard a shout followed by the sound of a slap and a scream.

Girls and boys began spilling out of the back of the truck, crying as they were manhandled. No sign of the twins, always easily spotted because both brother and sister had ash-blonde hair with a wide streak of neon blue.

He watched Vargas' guards laugh as one of them pinched one of the older girl's nipples through her thin blouse, causing her to spit at him. Brave girl. Or stupid. A curse and a slap followed. More crying.

"Take them down and teach them all a lesson!" One of the men said. Another replied, but Harry was not able to understand his rapid and heavily-accented Spanish. It was tempting to try to follow them but that would be cutting it way too close. He went back the way he'd come and had just slipped back in and shut the gate when he heard his name being called. He quickly bent down, sticking his face in a carnation plant, pretending to read the label just as Hot Choc appeared around the winding path.

"Dinner's ready," Luis said.

"Hi there. I'm sorry. I was already on my way back."

They walked back along the path, side by side, close enough for  Luis' arm to brush his occasionally. "You know something?" Luis asked, smiling.

"What?"

"If you get a decent haircut and loosen up a bit, you wouldn't look like a Harry at all."

"What's wrong with looking like ‘a Harry'? Whatever that means."

"But I apologize. I'm just an ignoramus from South America. A gaucho. But you - ex-Marine?"

Harry chuckled, allowing the other man to change the subject. "No. I worked for my family in our landscaping business before a friend got me this job. It pays a lot more."

"I'm sure it does, Harry Matthews."

* * * * *

 

"Harry, you'll have to excuse us," Vargas said, when their dinner was cleared away. "Luis and I have some business matters to discuss. It shouldn't take too long and we should be able to catch a drink together later."

Harry rose with the two men. "Thank you for your hospitality. I'll be in my room. I need to call in to my employer."

Luis touched his shoulder as they left the dining room. "It's unlikely I'll be seeing you again this trip, Harry. If Manuel and I come to a mutually satisfying conclusion this evening, I'll be flying out tonight."

"And if not?"

"If not, I'll be busy coming up with a good story for my client as to why I failed to secure what he wanted. In which case, I would not be in a position to have what I _really_ want."

"And what is it you _really_ want, _Sali_?"

Vargas gave them both a knowing smile and held open the door to his study, waiting for Luis.

"Ah. Perhaps one day I will show you, Harry Matthews." Luis' gaze rested on Harry's lips before returning to his eyes.

"Perhaps." A smile hovered on Harry's lips. "Well, good luck to your negotiations." He held out his hand. "And have a safe flight back."

Luis took the hand and gave it a firm squeeze. "Good night, Harry."

"Goodnight, Sali." Harry smiled at him then turned to Vargas, releasing Luis' hand even though he wanted to hold on. "Manuel, thank you for a superb dinner. If I don't see you again tonight, I'll see you at breakfast."

"I'm sure Luis won't occupy my time all night. No, I'm certain I will see you later." Vargas promised.

* * * * *

"So...Luis."  Manuel put his feet up on the table, a snifter of brandy warming in his hand. "Why should I upset my clients tomorrow by denying them the opportunity to bid tomorrow?"

"Fifty million dollars worth of whys, that's why,"  Luis said, lounging against Vargas' desk, hand in pocket. "Even Sarkis will not give you that." He added, referring to Sarkis Soghanalian, the Armenian arms dealer who had risen to prominence after Khashoggi's retirement.

"Sarkis is busy fighting fires, I agree," Vargas said, thoughtfully.

"And yesterday's friend becomes tomorrow's enemy." Luis reminded him. If fifty million isn't enough to interest you, perhaps having the Firebird as a client - even if I'm just the middle man - is more than sufficient."

"The Firebird?" Vargas, to his credit, dropped his feet to the floor and sat up. "You're the Firebird?" He let Luis believe he was stunned by the revelation.

Luis' brow quirked up and Vargas chuckled. "So what do you think of our long, tall Texan?" Vargas asked.

"Texan, is he? A little green for my tastes,"  Luis replied, not at all fazed by the non sequitur. "But that could be a refreshing change, I suppose." _What the hell was the Spaniard playing at?_

Vargas chuckled. "You are much too jaded, my friend. But how about a sample?"

"Gracias, but I'm more of a full-course meal man than cocktail canapés. Why? Does he appeal to you?"

"A little long in the tooth," Vargas replied.

 _Only to you, you pedophile._ "He's what?" Luis asked. "In his thirties? Over your age limit, for sure."

Vargas' profile had listed his penchant for kids, preferably between twelve and seventeen. While Luis could get it up for an eighteen year old -  if he had to - he preferred his sexual partners without puppy fat and some mileage under their belt. Nothing affected him like the hard, raw power under the skin of an experienced, adult male.

"But not over yours," Vargas chuckled then turned serious. "So how do I know you are the real Firebird, Senor d'Aragon?" he asked, switching back to business.

 _So he knew about the man who had impersonated the Firebird._ Luis mulled over that for a moment, recalling the reason for his tattoo's creation. The Firebird had been imprisoned for a short spell by the US authorities some years back. While the incarceration was arranged to add to the legend they were building for him in the early days, someone at the CIA had the bright idea of impersonating him to clinch a deal with the then Colombian drug kingpin, Carlos Avilés Herrera, of the Beltrán-Zetas cartel. Though that operation had been successful with no repercussions for M31 or Luis, they'd been swift to ensure it would never happen again. Immediately, Hayden and Jordan had worked with their team of scientists for six months straight, hardly seeing the sun, until the prototype of the Firebird tattoo was ready.

Three months after that, the Firebird tat went ‘live'. The word went out about this identifier and a few well-placed demonstrations of how it worked had served its purpose. Before the CIA operative's impersonation, there had been others who threw about the Firebird's name or claimed to be him to get everything from sexual favors to parking ticket waivers. After the tat was demonstrated, there were no more Firebird sightings, much less false claims.

Luis moved off from the desk and sat down opposite Vargas. Taking out a cigarette, he dug in his pocket for a lighter but Vargas beat him to it and held out the flame from his Cartier. He declined one of Luis' cigarettes and lit one of his own non-menthol ones.

"If you know about the man who impersonated The Firebird then surely you  know how I took care of that." Luis took a long drag and blew it out leisurely.

Vargas nodded slowly. "I've heard stories."

"Tell me some. Let's see if you've been listening to the right people."

"Alright." Vargas smiled, accepting the challenge. "I've heard that The Firebird gets off on inflicting pain- as those who have crossed him have testified; that he can be a gentleman on the negotiating table but has no mercy on the woman - or man - who forgets who he is; that he likes his sex rough and blood turns him on." Vargas shrugged. "The gender does not matter to him either, it's said. He is known for his exacting, if varied tastes...but all that is neither here nor there. I can claim the same." Vargas waved his hand dismissively. "He has a special tattoo, apparently. One-of-a-kind that cannot be duplicated. It is rumored he paid half a million dollars for it. I'll need to see this special tattoo to verify you are the real Firebird.'

Luis nodded. "Then let's deal in earnest. My client wants the shipment tonight."

"Impossible."

"Fifty million US dollars makes nothing impossible."

"A hundred million may make nothing impossible." Vargas countered softly.

"Sixty and entrée into Theron-Knight Atomics," Luis said, knowing the name alone would make the pervert come faster than a fifteen year old on his first fuck. "Any excess stock, you'll be the first to know." He added.

Luis could see the greed taking over the other man's caution. "My client is very keen to possess this particular cache," he said. "But he isn't a fool. If he were, he would not be the Firebird's client."

Vargas swallowed his brandy, pretending nonchalance. The offer was tempting, indeed. In fact, it was more than what he could have hoped for. He tapped his chin. Entrée to the world's largest defense systems manufacturer was not something to sniff at. Then again, it was never good business sense to appear too eager. Besides, he had cultivated a good clientele among the Saudis and his contacts in China were beginning to show promise. He could get just as good a price from them. Couldn't he? Or was it a case of a bird in hand - or a firebird, in this case - being worth however many in the bush?

Getting an in with Theron-Knight would put him on the same footing as The Firebird. Even Soghanalian wasn't in that class. The prospect made Vargas dizzy.

"The Firebird's patronage is one thing, Luis,"  Vargas said. "But you are still just one person. Still just one more weapons salesman at the end of the day. After all, this is business and I need to be convinced it is in my interest to cut out my regular clients at this stage and risk offending those I've been courting. No offense, please, but the auction is tomorrow. All you need to do is join the bidding. I can assure you your bid will not be topped."

Luis eyed the ash lengthening on his cigarette. He let Vargas run on but his own expression remained inscrutable. Vargas noticed the ash getting longer and his eyes flicked back to Luis. The silence lengthened like the cigarette ash.

Finally, Luis took one more long pull of his cigarette before moving it to the ashtray and stubbing it out. Not a speck of ash anywhere else but in the ashtray.

"Let's -"

"As I said earlier -"

Both men broke the silence at the same time.

"After you," Vargas said.

Luis propped a leg over the other, sliding down on the armchair, a picture of relaxation, if not indifference. "My client wants the deal done tonight. I am not privy to the reasons except that, obviously, time is of the essence for him. If I do not obtain this shipment tonight, I have no doubt he will expect me to look to other sources...next week? Next month..." He paused before throwing down the gauntlet. "My client's offer is not small change, Senor Vargas. If you insist we wait until tomorrow, I can assure you my client will purchase the goods from its new owner at far less than what you are being offered right now."

Luis took out another cigarette. "My client is offering sixty million dollars, Manuel.. Say yes now and I can have the funds wired to your account by two p.m. Tuesday, but I take possession tonight. Preferably here, in the Bay, but I'm flexible on that. Let it be the North Pole, if you like."

Vargas steepled his fingers. "Seventy-five million. First dibs on Theron-Knight. Shipment delivery on Sunday. Payment to be transferred to my account between two and six p.m. _Monday_." He counter-offered.

Luis shook his head. "Seventy-five, shipment delivery _tonight_. Funds will be wired over Tuesday two p.m."

 "Luis, be reasonable. You told me earlier you have means of taking possession of the goods in the Bay," Vargas said, referring to the Bay of Cadiz. "But my vessel moves on water, not through air. The earliest you can take possession is tomorrow night after nine. My vessel should reach Cadiz between nine and ten p.m. so if yours can be there waiting, the transfer can take place between eleven and midnight."

Luis thought over what Vargas counter-offered, taking his time.

Vargas sat forward, hands on the table. "Let's not quibble, Luis. You win. Seventy-five million on Tuesday 2pm, but delivery tomorrow night between eleven and midnight. I can't do it any earlier."

Luis flicked an assessing look at him.

"And I go to the top of the list with Theron-Knight," Vargas added. "And I know you'll be good for the money."

Luis let him wait a few beats before giving a quick nod. "Make the arrangements for the transfer tonight so I can tell my client it's done."

"Of course." Vargas smiled. "Now I want to see if that rumor about the Firebird is true."

"Which rumor?" Luis asked, feigning ignorance.

"That the Firebird tattoo comes alive when its owner is fucking."

Luis laughed. "That's an exaggeration."

"Then how will I know I won't end up selling my cache to an imposter? It could be a trap. You could be Interpol. Anybody can get himself an identical tattoo. But no one else can get the one you have. Or rather, the Firebird has. And I do trust my sources."

Without another word, Luis stood up turning his back to Vargas. He stripped off his shirt and flung it over the back of the armchair.

Vargas was transfixed. Right there before him was possibly the legend himself. In the flesh.

Right before his own eyes, he was looking at what was only whispered about - The Firebird's trademark tattoo. Not just any tattoo but one that was specially created for him to verify his identity. At least, that was how the rumor went. "The Firebird is unique, I heard. Created by a top-secret laboratory that's right out of science fiction."

Luis merely grunted in response.

"It really changes color when you fuck?" Vargas asked, already awed by the prospect of seeing it with his own eyes.

"It does."

"Then I want to see it at work," Vargas said. "And I have just the right incentive to get the Firebird to rise up from the ashes."

"Let's finish this then, shall we?" Luis said, a little too curtly but he didn't care. He hoped he could rise to the occasion and that Vargas didn't trot out some under-aged adolescent and expect him to fuck her. Or him. Maybe both. "I'll show you the Firebird at its glorious best. Then you arrange the transfer. Tonight. I have a morning flight to catch." He put out his cigarette and put his shirt back on.

Vargas stood and smiled, holding out his hand. "It's a deal.

"Let the games begin," Luis said, giving Vargas' hand a hard shake.

* * * * *

Sounds of music and laughter floated over to him as Harry walked around the central courtyard. The U-shape of the villa wrapped itself around the landscaped garden with its fountain in the middle. He'd done as thorough a search as he could without raising suspicion, finally going into the kitchen to chat with the cook and the maid, playing the bluff, inquisitive American.

From them, he learnt that Ramon had been with Vargas for about five years, that they were all nervous around him and kept out of his way as much as possible.

"We stay away from his men, too." Belita, the housemaid added, handing Harry a cup of coffee. He needed it. He felt drowsy and wanted nothing more than to hit the sack. If only the sack were in a villa in Santorini. Thirty-four years old and his bones were achy. He stifled a yawn.

"They are loco." Sancha stated, crossing herself. "Bad."

"But not as bad as Ramon," Belita said, darkly. "It is said he has killed many people and do worse things. He is not good man, that Ramon."

An understatement, Harry was sure, if Ramon was involved in his boss' human trafficking business and he'd bet his right nut he was. "Where does Ramon stay?" he asked. "Here in the villa?"

"No," Belita answered. "He stay in the small casa." she nodded towards the front of the villa. "Near the front gates."

Harry remembered seeing that and that there was another smallish two-story building next to it which looked like staff dormitories. "And his men? The guards. Do they live there with him?" He rubbed the space between his eyes, feeling a headache coming on. His vision swam for a few seconds and he blinked.

"Only Juan and Carlos," Belita answered again. "The others, they live in the edificio next to his casa." Her voice lowered to almost a whisper, she added, "I never go near after sunset. Even daytime, I avoid."

"Puta." Sancha's single word, said with a hard nod, expressed her disapproval of Ramon and his men. "Any woman go there after sun go down - puta!"

"Maybe they're girlfriends," Harry suggested. "Relatives?"

Sancha snorted, shaking her head. "No. Putas."

"Muchachos, too," Belita added. Boys. Harry immediately thought of Andrei. Young. Healthy. Handsome. Blonde. He'd better get somewhere fast if the teens were to get out in one piece. A buzz interrupted at that moment and Vargas' voice came on, telling Sancha she could retire for the night as she wouldn't be needed anymore. Harry gave no indication he understood what was being said but asked if Vargas' meeting was over.

"Si. Senor Vargas is finished with meeting," Sancha told him. "He say to me earlier he will call me if he wants something after meeting. If not, we go back to our rooms. Belita and I." She told the younger woman to go and clear Vargas' study and Harry stood up. Thanking them for the chat and coffee. He got back to his room just before the knock on his door came.

 

_____________

tbc


	7. PART ONE - Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Of course things never go according to plan but even Harry didn't expect it to be this bad - the first man he's allowed himself to desire and he turns out like this? ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**WARNING:** Rape but it's not as simplistic - nothing is when it involves Jax/Luis. In any case, if you hate anything that smacks of non-con/dub-con sex, skip this chapter.  
> _

"Senor Vargas is waiting for you," Ramon said, standing at the door. Harry had been expecting Vargas and was surprised to see the security chief instead.

"Thanks, tell him I'll be down in a moment. I'll just get dressed." He'd taken off his shirt and shoes to give the semblance of having been in bed.

"I wait," Ramon said. "I take you to the Sala Loco."

 _The Crazy Room?_ "What's that?" Harry asked.

"You see." Ramon's eyes followed Harry as he slipped on his shirt, buttoning it up halfway before slipping on his shoes. The security chief's eyes roamed his body and he hurriedly buttoned up the rest of his shirt as they made their way down the corridor.

Vargas' Sala Loco turned out to be a games room come entertainment lounge. There were three sofa sets grouped separately and a huge screen at the far wall. A fully-stocked bar that belonged more in a hotel or a pub showed Vargas did a lot of entertaining in this room. Nothing unusual. Until he saw the St Andrew's Cross and the floggers, cat-o-nine-tails and an assortment of whips displayed on the wall at the far back of the large room.

Harry had just caught sight of Vargas and Luis at the far side of the room when he felt a prick at the side of his neck. His hand came up instinctively but it was caught back by Ramon.

Harry did what he'd been trained to do but even as he aimed a kick at the back of Ramon's knees, his leg felt as if it had been weighed down by cement. His vision blurred slightly and he staggered as Ramon caught him around the waist, laughing as he dragged him further into the room. A hard shove sent him sprawling on the carpeted floor.

"Gracias, Ramon." Harry heard Vargas tell his security chief. "That will be all for now."

Harry heard the soft thud of footsteps as Ramon left and the soft chuckle from Vargas. Sounds bounced around in his cranial cavity, chased by their echoes. Drugged. Must be.

Vargas stepped up to Harry and looked down at him. Before he could say anything, Harry's booted foot slammed into Vargas kneecap. Vargas gave a howl and went down with a heavy thud. Harry scrambled up but swayed on his feet, staggering a few steps. Vargas had gotten up, cursing and vowing all manner of threats. He backhanded Harry, sending him sprawling back on the carpet, unable to keep his balance.

"You had him drugged," Luis said, accusingly. A part of him was relieved it was Harry. Another part wished there was some other way other than this man or prepubescent children.

Shit, Harry cursed. That was why he'd been feeling odd after dinner. His drink was drugged and God knows what Ramon injected into him just now. Whatever it was, it hadn't rendered him unconscious so that was a good thing. Wasn't it?

"You do know I prefer them with a bit more life, don't you?" Guilt, an unfamiliar presence, nudged at Luis. He thought of Alex momentarily, recalling his soft warning during one of their quiet dinners together. ‘You're allowing him to take you over, Jax.' Alex had said. Alex. Old enough to be his father, closer than. Perhaps it was time to listen to him and heed his warnings while he still had it in him to feel a little guilt. "What did you give him, Manuel? No fun if you've rendered him as useless as old rag doll."

Vargas clicked his tongue, chiding the younger man. "He's not incapacitated. Give him a few minutes and he will be fine. A little disoriented but he'll feel everything."

Harry swore at him and tried getting up but his legs felt rubbery and fitted with bowling balls instead of feet. He wobbled a little, cursed again, then promptly fell over, turning his head at the last moment so he wouldn't smack his fake nose on the floor.

* * * * *

Luis poured himself some of Vargas' cognac and lounged back on the armchair. Opening his cigarette case, he took out one of the menthol sticks and lit it. "Well, let's get on with it." He unzipped his pants and took out his cock, giving it a few strokes to bring it to life. "Shall I cuff him?" he murmured, reaching out for the pair of handcuffs that were hanging off an eighteen-inch high ornate stand on the coffee table. "Creative use of a coffee mug holder." He remarked, the handcuffs dangling off his fingers now. His other hand pumped his cock to a satisfactory hardness.

"That is not a coffee mug stand," Vargas said with a huff. "It's a miniature coat stand made of 18 carat gold. The stones are semi-precious. The cuffs are priceless... _valor sentimental_ , hey?"

Luis saw the flicker of alarm on Harry's face - or was it, anticipation. Did he care? The man would be just another faceless number in a long line of victims. "Come here." He commanded.

Harry didn't move. Just kept his eyes staring ahead at the wall apart from that first glance at Luis's cock. Huge. Hard. Sticking up like a fucking flag pole.

"I said, ‘come here,'" Luis repeated. "Do I have to make you, Mr. Matthews?"

Harry remained standing where he was. The floor looked and felt as if it was moving and for a moment, he felt disoriented. His eyes slid over to Luis. To think he starting to like the guy! His contempt must have shown on his face because Luis chuckled softly and said to Vargas. "I think my fellow guest needs a little persuasion."

It was Vargas this time who aimed a kick at the back of Harry's legs bringing him to his knees. Harry fell forward to land facedown a few inches from Luis' elegantly-shod feet.

"Turn around and put your hands behind your back." Luis smiled down at him.

Vargas stood next to Harry, tapping a small knife on his open palm. "Perhaps a little blood may persuade him to be more obedient."

 Harry swallowed a curse and turned around. If he resisted he might end up beaten unconscious. Or killed. Either way was not an alternative. He needed to stay conscious or he wouldn't be able to locate the twins. His only solution was to play along and get out of this situation alive and in a state to get some info to Dante.

He put his hands behind his back obediently and felt the cuffs snap around his wrists.

"Now face me," Luis ordered. Harry shuffled around and came face to face once again with that huge cock. "Why are you doing this?" he asked. "If you wanted an after-dinner fuck instead of coffee, all you needed to do was ask."

"Ah, but this is so much more entertaining." Luis smiled lazily at him. "Start sucking, Harry.".

"Fuck you, Sali. Perona. D'Aragon. Whatever the fuck your name is," Harry hissed out.

"No, fuck _you_ , Mr. Matthews," Luis countered.

"In your nightmares." Harry spat at the cock in front of him.

Laughing softly, Luis reached down to his ankle boot and brought up a small knife. He pressed a button and a thin, sharp blade shot out silently. He looked at Vargas and smiled. "I prefer my own toys." Pressing it to Harry's cheek hard enough to break skin, Luis waited. Still Harry knelt there, his eyes on the wall opposite. A few things ran through his head, not least of them his initial refusal to take this job. Should have listened to his instincts. The few times he hadn't, had shown him he was the only one he could rely on in his world. Sad. Pathetic. But true. If he got out of here alive, he swore his gut would be his lifelong GPS. ‘Gut Positioning Service'. He gave a snort as he contemplated his next move.

"You need a little patience, Luis my friend." Vargas advised. "Harry is inexperienced as far as men are concerned. Even if you wish to convert him to the delights of the male body, it would take more time than you have." Vargas lifted his brows at Luis.

* * * * *

Luis gave an exasperated sigh. An ass virgin. He needed one like he needed a boil on his dick. "I told you," he said to Harry. "I don't have all night. Now, either you start sucking or I rearrange your face, slice by slice."

Vargas chuckled.

Luis slid the tip of the blade down Harry's cheek, watching it bead with blood. Wiping a finger along the bleeding line, he brought it to Harry's lips, smearing them. "That color suits you." He shifted the blade to Harry's throat. "How much blood do you want? It's your call." He grasped his cock with his free hand and gave it a few lazy strokes, pushing it towards Harry's mouth. "Come on, bebé." In his other hand, the blade broke skin again.

Harry felt the trickle of blood down his neck watched the single drop that plopped onto Luis' thigh, staining the expensive material. He hoped the stain would never wash out as he lowered his head and took the fat tip of the cock between his lips.

It felt strange and yet familiar. After all, Luis didn't have anything Harry didn't. Down to the length and girth. Was the drug was just fucking up his mind? He felt both frivolous and terrified at the same time, alternating between moments of rational thinking and confusion.  He didn't know the reason for this sex game and it felt like some kind of game. If it was just a rape, they would have gotten down to it the minute Ramon delivered him. Instead, here he was in one of those rooms he had only seen in porn movies, hands cuffed behind him and woozy from whatever concoction Ramon had pumped into him.

"Manuel, give me a hand." Luis' voice was all warm and raspy and Harry could imagine the women went crazy for him. Well, he wasn't a woman and hell would freeze over before he went crazy for a man, much less _this_ man.

Luis told Vargas to remove Harry's shirt. Harry released Luis' cock to protest, earning himself a thunk on the side of his head. Thankfully, Luis had the sense to use the same hand that was carrying the blade or the impact from the other hand would have driven the stiletto right into his neck.

His shirt was ripped open, sending buttons flying. His cuffed hands prevented Vargas from ripping the shirt completely off but it was pulled back down to his elbows, exposing his shoulders and chest.

Luis gave Harry's shoulders an appreciative nod even as he felt his cock being licked tentatively. _For God's sake, speed it up._ "Harry, you suck cock worse than a homophobic nun."

Vargas sniggered. "You've had a nun before?"

Luis gave Vargas a wink before turning his attention back to Harry. "I wish I had the time to teach you but not tonight." Luis pushed Harry off, tucked his already-softening cock back in his pants and stood. Taking hold of Harry's shirt collar, he sliced through the shirt, flinging the cut off pieces aside until the man stood in front of him bare-chested. Luis ran a palm down the tanned chest, brushing through the sprinkling of dark hairs past the six-pack. His fingers paused at the waistband of Harry's pants. The thin blade of his knife withdrew with a soft click and Luis locked it before slipping it back into the compartment concealed in his boot.

Harry felt Luis' fingers unbuttoning and unzipping his pants, refusing to take his eyes off the wall. He held his breath and let it out heavily, waiting for that moment when fingers would touch him.

Luis pulled the pants down, gesturing to Vargas to help. "Take them off."

"That mule will kick me again," Vargas complained. Harry smiled docilely at him.

"I'll make sure he won't." Out came the fucking blade again. Harry heard the soft ‘ssshk' as it slid out and the prick of it against his neck. Again. "Get it off, Harry." The soft words whispered in his ear accompanied by another press of the damned blade made Harry do as he was told - get the pants off fast. 

"Pajero." A narrowing of Luis' remaining eye told Harry he wasn't expecting him to resist.

"I said 'off'!" Luis grabbed Harry by the back of his neck, bringing the tip of the stiletto to his nostril. "This would hurt, I guarantee it."

Harry stripped off his pants. Humiliated, angry and scared. Yeah, he was. he couldn't go through this again. Even knowing Dante was out there wasn't enough. He swallowed convulsively but forced himself to regain control, rein in his fear or he wouldn't be able to think rationally.

He stood stark naked, bracing for the Luis' next move.

"Give me some real action, Firebird," Vargas taunted. "I was told the Firebird likes to make them dance before he fucks them. Show me."

Luis tsked. "You and your rumors."

Harry watched Luis stroll to the wall and reach for one of the whips. Oh fuck. Not the bull whip.

* * * * *

The pain did not register until Harry scrambled away to escape the next lash, hands still cuffed behind him. At least, that was what he tried to do only it was like an elephant scrambling out of a cheetah's path. He felt beyond pleading but his mind continued to scream for Luis to stop.

"Watch him dance with my whip, Vargas," Luis told the lone spectator as Harry stumbled his way to the sofa. The pathetic attempts were laughable to Vargas who was enjoying himself immensely.

The bullwhip cracked and curled around the armchairs, the barstools and table legs. The huge celadon vase Harry had run behind to escape the lashes was not even touched yet he felt the sharp sting of this scorpion's tail as it whipped around and caught his on the inner thigh.

Panic swelled up in his throat as Harry found himself cornered. Luis stalked him with small, deliberate steps, flexing his wrist and testing the pliability of the bullwhip. Harry's lone audience, for whose benefit his tormentor was indulging in this madness, licked his lips in anticipation.

Luis studied his quarry with serious eyes. To the two people in the room, he would appear completely absorbed in his task with calloused amusement. Neither spectator nor victim would realize that Luis was engaged in a fierce battle with his alter-ego. Given a chance, Jax would kill Luis without a glance but he was needed for now. So, for today, The Firebird would do what he had to do.

Luis drew his arm back and even Vargas flinched at the crack that resounded through the room. Harry writhed as the length of the whip curled around his shoulders. It took awhile before the red streak on his back pooled and dripped. It didn't even register with him. He was numb with fear, knowing that the whipping was just a prelude of worse to come.

Harry danced away from the next lash, his body twisting every which way with pain and panic. Luis continued to stalk him, step by step, the bullwhip searching Harry out no matter where he ran, forcing him to perform a dance of writhing, arching contortions guaranteed to make a salsa dancer envious.

"Excelente! I shall call it the Mating Dance of the Firebird!" Vargas laughed.

"Down on the floor," Luis commanded. He had Vargas uncuff Harry. "On your hands and knees. Unless  you want to be fucked laying on your back. Will be a little too painful, no? With all those bloody lashes, mi cajeta?"

Harry hesitated, wanting to smash his fist into the other man. He'd spent enough time in Buenos Aires to know the cajeta wasn't a dessert but Argentinean Spanish for ‘pussy'. He obediently got on his hands and knees, vowing when he got out, he would hunt this cunt down and cut him up strip by strip.

"And now, what you've been waiting for, Vargas. My _pièce de résistance._ You've got a sweet ass, Harry, and I'd would have liked to take my time but," he gave a small shrug. "There is that plane to catch. So, _por favor_ , let's get the show on the road."

Luis drew out a packet and a couple of small tubes from his pocket before undoing his pants and shoving them down to mid-thigh. This must be the clumsiest, unsexiest fuck session he'd ever gotten involved in. A string of silent curses ran through Luis' head as he covered Harry's body with his own. Bending over Harry's back, he whispered in his ear, "It doesn't have to hurt. Just push back at me." Luis knew he shouldn't be helping Harry to endure the rape, that he should be preserving the Firebird's reputation but couldn't help it. For once, he didn't want the Firebird to be in control. For once, it looked like Jax was winning.

Harry frowned at the words, unable to believe that the Argentinean cared one way or another. His ass clenched when he felt a cold dribble down the crack of his ass. Then a thick finger was pushed into his anus, stroking his channel. More cold lube being pushed inside him. Then another finger was applying something else to his hole. Felt like a thick cream like Vaseline. It was warm, too, unlike the earlier one which was cold. What the hell was it? As it was, keeping quiet and co-operative would, he hoped, get this over and done with quicker. He'd deal with the aftermath to his mind and body later, after the mission. His back and thighs felt like it was on fire. At least the lashes had stopped bleeding but his body was covered with sticky, drying blood. The cream tingled the rim of his ass then the warmth radiated upwards through his anal channel. The sudden throb of sexual need caught Harry by surprise and caused not a little consternation. He knew it wasn't him but the strange cream that Luis applied. It had given him an enormous hard-on and made him want...want something...want to be filled. He heard Luis murmur in his ear. "No need for pain - unless that turns you on. Feel good now?" _Yeah, it did_ , Harry wanted to tell him even as he wanted to kill him. "Let me hear you beg."

 _Beg? Was he fucking kidding?_ Humiliating enough to be caught like this. To be raped. Yes, it was rape. Even if he was starting to feel good. Even if the finger stroking his hole felt so good. Even if he wanted to beg.

It was still rape.

* * * * *

 The feeling of lust that coursed through him was short-lived, however. He saw Vargas come to kneel beside him, breathing hard and taking his cock out. "Hurry!" Vargas panted. "I want to see the Firebird!"

Harry watched in mute silence as Luis took off his shirt, now smeared with Harry's blood, and released his massive cock from the confines of his pants. He gave it a few strokes as he squirted a generous amount of lube from one of the tubes.

Harry groaned. He was about to get a big fucking cock stuffed up his ass and whatever fantasies he'd had about that, this was different. This was real. A trickle of sweat ran down his cheek from his temple, stinging the cut.

Another nudge at his hole, harder, more insistent. He couldn't help the instinctive tightening, heard Luis' voice, whispering again in his ear, urging him to relax, to open up, reminding him to push back. He did, and felt Luis' cock wedge past the tight ring of his anus. Whatever that ointment was Luis had applied on his anus, it had more or less removed the sharp sting of pain, replacing it with a dull, delicious ache. This wasn't how he'd imagined his first gay fuck to be like, but he wasn't that out of it not to know it could have been worse. His priority was getting the fuck out of here - with the twins. Luis' breathed Spanish endearments on the side of his neck, adding an intimacy he wasn't expecting and changing the entire tone of the assault. If he had any doubts about his sexual orientation, the response those words had on him erased them all. Harry gave a breathless moan as Luis slid all the way in and he felt the hard teeth of the zipper against his thighs. Bastard hadn't even taken off his pants. Behind him, Vargas was shouting and waving his arms.

"Madre Dios! It's changing color! It's alive!" He scurried nearer then to the other side of Luis. Harry turned his head to see what the hell was going on even as he kept half an eye out for a chance to escape.

"The wings! I can see the wings of the firebird. It's turning orange!" Vargas exclaimed. "It was green before. Now it's orange. No, it's turning red."

"Yes, it's a fucking traffic light," Luis muttered. "See, Harry." He leaned in and whispered to Harry. "You turn me on. Now hang on for the ride of your life, _mi querido_."

The fast and furious fucking that followed drove home the reality that this wasn't your regular after-dinner, leisurely sex between lovers, Spanish love words notwithstanding. Harry felt like one of those cheap Brazilian rent-boys, who clung to his arms in the back streets of Sao Paolo even when he adamantly refused their services.

Luis' warm palm was on his back, between the shoulder blades, on a spot where the whip had not touched since it didn't cause him to hiss in pain. "Lean on your forearms." Harry obeyed and shifted down. Luis went in deeper, his cock stretching Harry to the max. He felt more lube being applied and thought how clinical it all was.

Another excited outburst from Vargas made him turn his head. The resort-owner looked like was on a pogo stick, hopping up and down and scurrying to and from Luis' back like a cockroach.

"Madre Dios! Now I see it with my own eyes! It's totally black but glittery. The Firebird!" Vargas breathed out in awe. _What the hell?_ Harry tried twisting around but Luis' thrusting cock and that hand pushing down on his back didn't make it easy. A hard, stinging slap on his butt made him yell out but Luis merely hissed back urgently in his ear. "Listen to me. Stay still and let me finish."

Harry felt the strokes slow slightly and the angle shift. Luis' body was now draped over his entire back, his arms wrapped around his torso. His breath came in hot pants in Harry's ear and the thrusts got faster and harder. Fuck! That would take all the skin off his back. Then Luis' cock hit some spot inside him and the sensation zinged right through Harry, eliciting another yelp followed by a harsh groan. It felt like nothing on earth. And nothing on earth ever felt this good, even in the midst of the pain emanating from his back. Luis' hand reaching around Harry to grasp his cock was another unexpected move. To Harry's embarrassment, all it took was a few strokes and he felt his orgasm rushing through his cock. "No-oh...! Sali...Sa-a-lee!" Harry drew out the word in tortured whispers as Luis kicked up the speed of his thrusts and with a muffled moan in Harry's neck, came just as Harry cried out Luis' pet name and came in Luis' hand.

Before Harry could berate himself for losing it like this, for calling out his silly nickname for the rapist as he came, Luis had pulled out of him and Vargas took his place. "No!" No way was he letting Vargas stick his cock in. He scrambled up to get on his feet, still reeling from the drug and his orgasm.

"Get back down, _coño_." Vargas back-handed Harry, this time his signet ring splitting Harry's bottom lip.

Fuck. Harry wiped the blood off and managed to throw a punch at Vargas' jaw which sent the man staggering back and landing on his ass. Unfortunately, the momentum of the swing had Harry stumbling, trying to keep from crashing to the floor himself. He managed to stay upright from sheer adrenalin and the need to make a run for it before it occurred to him it would mean the end of his assignment.

He had just reached the double doors when they opened and Ramon stood there grinning, gun in hand. He waved it in front of Harry's face and stepped in, edging Harry further back."Don't fuck with me."

"No intention of fucking with you at all, pal." Harry turned around, still breathing hard from the exertion. Time for a little persuasion. "Senor Vargas -" he panted. "S-surely this isn't the way -" he broke off to take a breath. " - to welcome a prospective client. The sheikh will be most..." he stopped again. "most...disappointed with the treatment his personal representative ha-has received." He looked at the two men as he tried to catch his breath. He was fit, he was healthy so that damned drug must be why he was gasping for air. He needed to get info and get it fast. And if the only way was to play along and pretend to enjoy it then that's what he'd do. Except his back had started to bleed again.

Vargas gestured to Ramon who stepped up and tried to cuff him with another pair of handcuffs. Harry swung round to avoid him and knocked over a large blue and white vase. It toppled from its stand and crashing to the floor, shattering. He hoped it was a Ming.

How many fucking pairs of cuffs did they keep in this place? He was due to call in but if he didn't, Dante would simply think he was occupied and would wait until tomorrow He considered the odds of escaping even though it meant going back to the drawing board. Shit. He shook his head, trying to clear it. He wasn't even making sense to himself. No, he had to stick it out. His legs were still wobbly, his steps heavy as if he were wading through jelly while drunk.

"I'm sorry to be a party-pooper," Luis interrupted, addressing Vargas. "But I need to be on my way. I need the contract now and your men given the go-ahead for the transfer." The sonodabitch got his proof so no reason for Luis to hang around.

"Of course," Vargas replied, sounding understandably disappointed. Relief flooded Harry. Vargas opened a drawer in the bar counter and digging around for a pen. "Let's have the contract," he said, shutting the drawer with a slam.

Luis already had it out on the counter. Vargas signed it. Luis took out his cell phone. "It is on speaker." He thumbed the button and handed it to Vargas. A few minutes later, the transfer of the merchandise and the payment done, Luis pocketed his phone.

Harry vaguely heard Luis say goodbye to him but wasn't sure, until Luis cupped the back of his head and pressed his lips to Harry's ear. The whispered, ‘I am sorry' was unmistakable as it was incredible.

"Game over already?" Harry asked, still breathless from exertion and pain. "C-can I go back to my room?"

"Unfortunately not, Senor Matthews." Vargas replied. "You are destined for far greater things." Another blow to Harry's jaw snapped his head back. A kick to his head and he felt his brow split, blood running down past his cheeks, down his neck. He was still naked and Ramon was looking at him like a dog salivating over a bone. Dizzy and head throbbing, Harry went down like a log. The last thing he heard before the world went black was him calling Sali's name and wondering why the hell he would do that.

 

 

______________________

tbc


	8. PART ONE - Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _**Flashback continues...**  
>  For Jax, his undercover assignment to buy back V-1 is accomplished. Time to return home to KnightShade HQ in San Diego. For Quinn, his nightmare, unfortunately, is just beginning. Compared to what Quinn is about to endure at the hands of Ramon and his men, what Luis did is a walk in the park._
> 
> _Since I don’t have the stomach for explicit violence, sexual or otherwise, I’ve left it all off-page. You’ll have to use your own imagination._
> 
> _This chapter closes the events involving Vargas’ and his men’s direct interaction with Harry._

_Midnight, Friday; Vargas' villa_

Luis gave his appearance a quick glance at the mirror in Vargas' foyer. The front of his shirt was ruined but he'd gotten what he came for. The payment, Luis told Vargas, had already been made available before he arrived in Spain and the phone call he'd just made would ensure the seventy-five million would be in Vargas' Swiss account by fourteen hundred hours Tuesday, as agreed.

He'd relayed the deal's closure to KnightShade Comcen and confirmed the transfer of funds to Vargas. V-1 would be back in their hands by midnight Saturday - tonight, looking at his watch. It was just past midnight. He hadn't meant to take that long. They'd do an inventory once V-1 was transferred to their ship then he and the guys would be ready to ship out.

"I notice you were rather taken with Matthews," Vargas remarked.

"He was...an interesting diversion," Luis brushed the hair off his forehead with long, tanned fingers. He flicked a cuff then picked up his briefcase. "Well, Manuel,"  he held out his hand. "It was a pleasure to do business with you. Slightly more exertion required than my other negotiations...but infinitely more pleasurable. I wish I had had the time to enjoy your uhh, ‘hospitality' more, even though it was a test."

"It was my privilege, Senor d'Aragon." Vargas gave him a small bow. "And I have no doubt you would have turned the test into entertainment for the evening...if you had the time."

Luis went down the steps and stopped beside his car, which one of the guards had driven round for him. "Everything is in order and the shipment will be collected at the appointed time." He slid into his car seat and Vargas shut the door. The window came down. "What do you plan to do with Harry?" Luis asked. "Killing a foreign businessman could be more trouble than it's worth this time."

Vargas shook his head and gave a small smile. "They do not want him dead." The smile became a chuckle. "That one, he pissed off his own people big time. But -" he held up his index finger, "I have other plans for him. Instead of procuring a pet, Mr. Matthews will find he's the one about to become a slave."

Luis gunned the engine. _Your job's done. Never look back._ "You are putting him up for auction?"

"Why? You want to buy him, too?"

"Perhaps. If I had a need for a pet, even one way past the shelf life as Mr. Matthews is," Luis said. "And if I could stay for the auction, which, unfortunately I cannot. But perhaps we can work something out."

"Unfortunately, my friend, Mr. Matthews has been reserved. He'll be on his way to his owner as soon as my auction is over on Sunday." He amended, looking at his watch. "Since my client has given me the task of breaking in his new toy, Harry and I are going to have quite a bit of fun on our Mediterranean cruise. I have a whole week with him on my yacht. Two, if I decide to stop and see some friends on the way."

"Isn't he a bit too old to be someone's toy, not to mention beyond your interest? Besides, I thought he'd be the wrong gender for you."

"Not my preference, I readily admit but I do indulge once in awhile. However, you are right, he may be a little too 'mature' for me."Vargas chuckled at his understatement. "Whatever. He and I are taking a little cruise then he's off my hands."

"You have me curious, Manuel."

"Don't be. It is a private affair. Another client wants him for his own special purposes and is paying a hefty sum for him. My job is just to deliver and collect. Now, I have two auctions coming up and you have worn me out so adios my friend. I need a few hours sleep. Till our next deal."

"Adios." Luis gave him a nod and his window slid back up silently.

* * * * *

 Vargas returned to the basement as soon as Luis' car vanished round the curved driveway. His sala loco was a mess. Broken pottery, glasses, overturned tables and blood on the carpet. Harry was still on the floor, naked and unconscious. Ramon crouched next to him on his haunches, running his hand over Harry's pelvis. "Quite beautiful, isn't he? For his age." Vargas remarked to his security chief. He knew Ramon would have been tempted to touch but had the good sense not to do more. Not without permission, anyway.

Giving a glance at Harry's prone body, Vargas went over to the bar counter. He turned off the camera, slid out a disc and handed it to Ramon. "Put this in my study. I want to go over it before I upload it." He glanced at his watch. "Where are the twins?"

"On their way. They should reach the villa by midnight tonight," Ramon replied. "About another twenty-four hours to go." He added.

Same time as the shipment transfer, Vargas noted. "I want them taken straight to the yacht. Keep them separate from the others."

"Yes, senor Vargas."

"Are they here yet? The others?"

 "They are expected to arrive by mid-morning. I just heard from Viktor. They have caught the three girls and the boy that tried to escape. We can expect them - all twenty -  to be delivered by noon tomorrow. Constanza is ready for them. They will all look like little princes and princesses by Sunday."

"As long as they fetch royal prices, I don't care what she's doing with them. And the ones for Istanbul?" Vargas walked over to Harry's limp form on the floor. "Safe." Ramon smiled thinly. "They'll be transported to the trawler then the yacht. They do not look like royalty but I think they will clean up well before delivery."

"They don't need to look like prince and princesses, those ones. They will be lab rats. It's the ones for the auction I want looked after. The Chinese are represented this time."

"Yes, senor. They look promising. I think they'll outdo the Russkies this time. Chen Lifang looks like a big-spender. I suggested to his bodyguard that his boss bring his son to the next one. Senor Chen liked the idea and even thanked me when he saw me."

Vargas looked at his security chief. "Excellent, Ramon. Excellent. You are turning out to be a lot more than a security guy."

Ramon looked blandly at his boss.

 "Don't forget," Vargas added. "I want the twins on the Joya del Mar as soon as they arrive. And not a scratch on them."

"What about him?" Ramon nodded towards Harry who was lying on the floor a few feet from them.

"Take him to the yacht. You can put him in my stateroom but make sure he's secured."

Ramon nodded.

"And let Kapitan Solis know we should be setting off by two p.m. Sunday," Vargas added. "I won't be needing him until then."

The auction would be over by noon and he could leave the villa once lunch was served. No one would miss him. They'd be too engrossed comparing their purchases and boasting about their other conquests and acquisitions. "Matthews is a trained agent so don't underestimate him." He warned Ramon.

Ramon looked at the unconscious man and smirked. The trained agent couldn't even hurt a fly at the moment. "My men are trained, too." He told Vargas, as if to chide him.

Vargas had given orders for his yacht to wait for them about two kilometers off the coast. Sanlucar de Barrameda and its nearby fishing port of Bonanza, was situated at the mouth of the Guadalquivir River and Vargas' luxury yacht would be too conspicuous mooring next to the fishing trawlers.

* * * * *

Harry stifled a groan as he feigned unconsciousness. He'd prayed the asshole Ramon wouldn't do anything to make him give himself away and had gritted his teeth as the slimeball touched him. His face hurt like hell, not to mention his ass. He'd heard enough to know the twins would be transported from the villa to Vargas' waiting yacht and had sent Signal One. He'd kept his hand hidden under him so the movement of his thumb and fingers wouldn't be detected.

He relaxed a bit now that he knew the twins would be at sea rather than sold off tomorrow. It raised a whole new set of questions, of course. Like where were the twins destined for, if not the auction, and how did he figure in it but that would have to wait. It gave him more time. Much more. Things weren't so bad, he guessed. Even if he couldn't escape he'd still be on the yacht with them and would get extracted along with them. Still, the thought that he wasn't truly cut out for this covert ops business dug in deep. Time to switch careers. Permanently.

"Imagine that, Ramon - he's a spy. A fucking CIA operative! Vargas spat out. "With the right re-programming, I am sure he will be of use to his new employers." Vargas prodded him with his toe.

"He doesn't look very dangerous at the moment, senor." Ramon's smiled derisively.

"He will be by the time his new owner is done," Vargas said. "Dangerous but obedient. This one isn't going to be another high-priced culo, Ramon. He's going to a different buyer, this one, and he has other plans for him. Other purposes."

Harry forced himself to remain still. _What. The. Hell._ How did Vargas know he was CIA? Since when? If he'd known before inviting him to the villa, why invite him then? It wasn't to kill him, obviously. He hadn't even been interrogated. There was no way for him to warn the team he had been compromised. But was he? It didn't sound like Vargas knew there was a rescue op going on and that Harry was involved. Or had he missed that when he was weaving in and out of consciousness? Even now, his head couldn't handle all those questions.

"I caught him coming out of your study," Ramon said.

Vargas' head snapped up. "When?"

"Earlier this evening, after you spoke to Senor Bradley."

"I didn't see him in there."

"He was coming out just as I was about to go in and get your phone. He said he got lost then went and used your bathroom. He asked me to show him the way down."

Vargas thought for a minute then shrugged. "Doesn't matter anymore. Where he's going, nothing's going to matter except pleasing his owner. In forty-eight hours, he won't remember a single detail, not even how or why he came to Puerto Banus. He'll have his long-term memory but these few days, maybe even a whole month, he will not remember."

"Is this the new drug from Mexico that cost more than my entire year's salary"? Ramon asked.

"Ramon." Vargas tsked at him. "Are you saying I underpay you?"

"Why is he here in the first place?" Ramon asked, changing the subject.

"His boss, or ex-boss, rather, wants to get rid of him and teach him a lesson at the same time."

"Must have pissed him off big time. So his being a rep of that sheikh?"

"Just his cover, of course," Vargas replied, giving Harry a shove with the toe of his shoe. "I was to play along with whatever story he gave."

"But this ex-boss must have given him a reason to come here." Ramon said. "Some fake assignment or something."

Vargas shrugged. "Doesn't matter, does it? We got him."

"That assignment is definitely fucked." Ramon laughed out loud at his pun. " I take him to the yacht now?"

"Yes. Now," Vargas replied. It is late. I need to get a few hours sleep before this morning's auction. The clients start arriving by nine." This was the last time he was going to organize two auctions back-to-back. Oh well, nothing a few hours sleep would not cure. And he could always go to bed early tomorrow night. That ought to refresh him for the second auction on Sunday.

"Through a half-closed eye, Harry saw Vargas turn to go then changed his mind and started talking to Ramon again. Harry shut his eye again.

 "On second thoughts, Ramon," he heard Vargas say. "I think you would enjoy him. Consider it a small gesture of appreciation for your loyal service. By all means, share him with your men, if you are so inclined. We are setting off immediately after Sunday's auction. I suggest you have him back on the yacht by midnight tonight. Our guests' security detail will be arriving early Sunday morning and I want you and your men ready.

Harry fought off the darkness he was sinking into. What the hell did Vargas just say? He didn't catch the words hard as he tried. They were running into each other, reverberating nonsensically in his head.

"Gracias, senor. I will make sure he is on board by eleven tomorrow night. I, too, will need my rest after I'm done with him." Ramon laughed. "But you said he has a buyer." Harry heard the question in Ramon's voice. "Senor d'Aragon's enjoyment of him is already evident all over his body and his buyer won't be pleased to receive his goods damaged beyond repair. Which it will be by the time my men and I are done with him."

Harry's head spun and he felt as if he'd taken a dive from an airplane. Head-first. He fought the darkness creeping over him but lost the battle and gave himself up to it.

"His owner isn't concerned about that," Vargas replied, glancing down at the unconscious man. "As long as Senor Harry is not injured fatally, that's all he requires."

"Senor Vargas, by the time my men finish with him, he won't be fit for pig food."

"Don't become an old woman, Ramon." Vargas said. "His destiny is not our business. I'm being paid, his boss has gotten his pound of flesh and now I'm letting you have some fun. Take it or leave it."

Ramon looked at the inert body. "Pissed his boss off _very_ bad," he said, shaking his head as he bent to lift Harry.

Harry came to, wondering how long he'd passed out. Judging from the voices, Ramon and Vargas were still with him but far enough for him to open one eye without being detected. Same room. Same position. He was out for just a minute or two, then.

"Oh, he did."  Vargas chuckled. "His partner is being told Matthews is flying out for another top-secret assignment so he won't be meeting up with him when they ship out."

Harry heard the sound of clinking ice cubes accompanying Vargas' chuckles. Was the Spaniard going to stay down here all night?

"So the idiota is going to be waiting for Matthews but he'll be on his way to Istanbul." Ramon's shoulders heaved with laughter.

"Make sure he is alive, Ramon." Vargas reminded his chief of  security. "His ex-boss may not care if he lives or dies but he's not the buyer. He's just the deliveryman. Senor Matthews' buyer, on the other hand, does care. I don't think his resources extend to resurrecting the dead just yet.

Harry's brows drew together imperceptibly as he tried to follow what he was hearing. He heard movement then Vargas' voice receding. Sounded like Vargas was leaving. He cracked open an eye and saw Vargas step into the elevator. The doors closed after him, ending the conversation. Or so he thought.

* * * * *

Ramon went to examine his prize. Harry tensed, sensing the proximity of the other man.  Slimeball had no problems continuing the conversation by himself.

"You don't look so defiant now, eh? Juan and I will take our pleasure with you before we give you to the others." He lifted Harry off the floor and over his shoulder, fireman style, showing the strength he possessed despite his slim, wiry frame.

Harry kept his eyes closed and heard the sound of the elevator doors opening and closing. His stomach heaved as the elevator jerked sharply before taking them up and jerked again to a stop. Would serve the sonofabitch right if he puked all over him. He cautiously squinted his eyes open to get a sense of where they were going after exiting the elevator. His stomach rolled again and he groaned out loud. His head started spinning again and he felt himself being pulled under. He fought harder this time. Needed to figure out what was going on.

 _Bradley_ sold him out? The little fucker. His guts churned as he recounted what Vargas said about Bradley telling Dante that he'd be flying out and wouldn't be part of the extraction. So Dante wouldn't be expecting him, wouldn't be looking for him when he didn't show. Once Dante got the twins, he'd head out, not knowing he was leaving Harry behind. Something else was at the back of his mind but he couldn't capture it.

Fuck. Were there even any twins? What if it was all a big set-up? But why? If it was, it would mean Petrovsky was part of it, too. He dismissed that immediately. Petrovsky was likely dragged in like he was. Which meant whatever was going down was huge. Petrovsky wasn't just an industrialist. He was a key-player in US-Sino-Russian relations and his Chinese-Russian wife. What if Dante had been duped about Petrovsky? No, Dante had said he'd spoken to Petrovsky personally.

Bradley was rumored to become deputy director of the National Clandestine Service, the coordinating body between the CIA and other defense agencies set up after 9/11. What the hell was he involved in?

What about Vargas? Did he know it was Bradley who had ordered the twins' rescue? It didn't sound like it. Vargas did not mention it and he would have if he knew about it. So what kind of double cross was Bradley playing with Vargas?

But first things first - getting out alive. He had sent Signal One. Now he needed to be within five hundred yards of the twins before sending the second signal. That meant not just staying alive but remaining conscious.

Harry's head was pounding. His entire body was sore and bloody and he was sure more than one rib had been fractured by Vargas' kick. It had taken every ounce of self-control not to make a sound while he was laying there listening to them. The brandy he'd drunk earlier, not to mention the drug that had been administered to him, had helped numb the pain and that weird cream Hot Choc had smeared on him had lessened the risk of being chafed raw but he was still nauseous and gave another groan.

He hoped they remembered Bradley's orders that he be delivered alive. To whom? He didn't have a clue but it was up to him to stay conscious and send another signal. One that would bring the cavalry.

* * * * *

Ramon dropped Harry like a sack of potatoes on the bed. He'd carried him across the courtyard at the back of the villa with just a torch lighting his path. It was still pitch dark across the grounds as he opened the side-gate, speaking to the guards in short sentences and eliciting laughs from the sentries.

Guttural voices and laughter reverberated in Harry's head and he was relieved when Ramon barked orders at his men to leave their partying until he returned.

"No one touches him until I say so." Murmurs followed Ramon's order.

Harry heard Ramon leaving the room, slamming the door behind him. When no other sounds came from the room, he opened his eyes, quickly registering his surroundings. Sparsely-furnished room. Not more than ten by fifteen. Probably a rest area for the stable hands or the guards. Double-decker bunk bed.

Harry sat up, intending to go to the door to listen. He could hear the murmur of voices and maybe he'd catch some useful info. He sat up too fast, sending his head spinning. With a grunt, he laid back down. Slowly, this time.

He'd heard the part about taking him to the yacht and keeping him away from the twins and others. So why was he dumped here instead of on the yacht? Did he miss something when he passed out the last time?

The answer arrived in the form three men who looked like they'd just stepped off the set of a spaghetti western, right down to the first one who spoke. Juan. A dead ringer for the Eli Wallach character in the old Clint Eastwood western. The other two laughed softly, their teeth showed oral hygiene wasn't a priority for them. Behind them, Ramon entered and shut the door, locking it.

"Ah, you are awake." Ramon grinned as he saw Harry try to sit up.

"How long can we keep him?" The one who looked like Wallach asked.

"Until tomorrow night," Ramon said.

"Really?" Another one asked, sounding way too gleeful for Harry's comfort. "Good. Enough hours to satisfy me."

 

___________________________

tbc


	9. PART ONE - Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _This chapter ends the flashback to Quinn’s Spain assignment._
> 
> _Dante promised he would not leave Quinn and he intends to keep his word._
> 
> _While the extraction of Quinn and the twins are underway, we will switch over to the M31 trio (Jax, Staz and the delectable Nick) as they move forward with the transfer of V-1. Jax, however, will be hit by a pang of guilt and that’s when the fun starts._
> 
> _We will not see Dante again until towards the end of the story._

_2200hours, Saturday; Sanlucar de Barrameda_

"Dave? Casey? We're on the move." Dante spoke into his mic. "His tracking signal's showing he's leaving the villa." He heaved a sigh of relief. When he didn't hear from Quinn all day, he was tempted to break in and find out what the fuck happened but the tracking unit had showed him moving within the villa so he'd waited. He hadn't heard from him all night last night either but his tracking unit was still moving, which meant he was alive. There had been a lot of traffic going to and from the villa as well the whole morning. The Saturday auction. Whatever it was for. Tight security, too. By fourteen hundred, though, all the vehicles had left and the villa appeared to back to its previous number of occupants. "You see them, Dave?"

"I see 'em but he's with company. Could be our twins," Dave responded from his position. "One truck. Ten..twelve kids entering the vehicle. One fireman-carry. Three guards and one driver."

Dave and Casey watched the group's departure through their NVGs. "Looks like they're heading towards Bonanza, the fishing port," Dave reported.

"Get your asses back here. Pronto! We're gonna pop smoke. If we're lucky, Signal Two will come in soon."

"You think they're being taken to one of the fishing vessels?" Beth asked when Dave and Casey were back in their souped-up van.

"We'll know soon, won't we?" Casey replied, giving her a wink.

"Step on it, Mike." Dante told their driver. Mike hit the gas. They'd been monitoring the last twenty-four hours from the van, itching for some action. Mike would take the van back to Rota and await them there. The twins, and the rest of the kids, would be taken to the US naval base once they were safely in the Zodiac. Dante called Bradley as they sped towards the marina. His superior picked up on the first ring. "Masterson called in earlier." Dante told his deputy director. It wasn't exactly the truth but close enough. "All targets are in Vargas' possession, sir. Everything is going according to plan."

"Glad to hear that." Bradley replied. "I will update Petrovsky."

"Extraction is expected within the hour, sir."

"Good. Good," Bradley's satisfaction came through in his voice. "There's also a change of plans for Masterson. I was just about to call you. He won't be leaving with you. He's already on his way to his next assignment."

"What?" Dante frowned and his internal alarms went off, causing his gut to tighten. "He didn't say anything when I spoke to him earlier," he lied. None of them had heard from Quinn since that first phone call on Friday evening.

"It just came in. It's black so telling you this much is already too much." Bradley replied. "He's already on his way to the airport. His part of the mission is accomplished as far as we are concerned and he needed to get out of Spain. He won't be contactable. You and your team get back here asap. With the twins, of course."

"Yeah. Sure." Dante watched Quinn's tracking signal as it headed for the marina along the same route with Vargas' human cargo, not the airport.

Something stank and Quinn had stepped right into it. Again.

* * * * *

Quinn was torn. Ripped. Fucked raw. The sticky come of the four men was smeared over his thighs, still oozing out of his ass, mixed with the smell of warm blood and piss dripping from his scalp. His blood. Their piss. It was all colliding with St Petersburg. The acts were the same but the faces kept changing. Russians merging and morphing with Spaniards and other indeterminate races. They could have been aliens for all he knew.

When he finally passed out, his last thoughts were of a single whiskey eye, a black eye patch and a sexy smile; of strong hands holding him and a voice like hot chocolate whispering foreign words in his ear; of good food and excellent sherry, of strangers sharing about other times and other places; other lives and other loves. He wanted to stay there, wherever 'there' was. Leaving was too painful.

He didn't even know how long he'd been unconscious. A few hours? Days? His eye felt like it was hanging off his face by a thread. He knew, even being told, that he'd be permanently blind in that eye. Surprisingly, his mind was clear and he could recall what had transpired, what little he'd heard. He'd have to make sure he told Dante everything in case he passed out again. He might not remember when he next woke up. Vargas and Ramon had mentioned some drug they'd given him which would wipe his memory out or something. Shit. Dante had better get here fast.

* * * * *

Through his other eye, Quinn caught the flickering lights of the marina. The vehicle came to a grinding halt and he heard voices calling out to the kids to get off the truck.

He was slumped down in the front passenger seat, hands cuffed behind him. As if he was in any condition to do anything if his hands were free. He wasn't even sure where he was. The nearest marina that could handle a yacht was Chipiona but the vessels moored here were trawlers, not pleasure boats. Which meant they were likely in Bonanza, the small fishing port just north of Sanlucar de Barrameda, possibly being transferred to the yacht via a trawler.

The passenger door was pulled open, causing him to fall out. His knees had given way, sending him to the ground heavily. The pain was excruciating and he gave a cry.

A flashlight trained on his face, the red filter lighting up his bruises theatrically. He almost screamed from the pain when he was hauled up and slung over someone's shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

His body felt like it was aflame and his guts lacerated beyond repair. His throat was as raw as his asshole from being forced to blow the men at knifepoint. Said point poised at his rectum, no less. He was surprised he wasn't sliced to ribbons and if he could, would have laughed at the recollection of Hot Choc complaining about his lack of sucking skills.

He'd learnt fast tonight. Really fast. Fast enough to choke on the come of those three scumbags whose dicks had obviously not been washed for days. Passing out had been a merciful break for him.

He felt himself dumped on the ground and heard more cursing. Laughter from someone else followed the curses then shouts and a scuffle. Quinn took the opportunity to turn his head and check his surroundings even though that slight movement caused streaks of agony across his body.

It was too dark to see much more than dark figures hurrying by, some herding smaller figures into a trawler. Gun-toting guards, some carrying red-filtered flashlights. Even the vehicles had their lights covered with the red filter.

Quinn figured it was better it was dark and if he did get lucky enough to be thrown in the same trawler as the twins, there was less chance of them recognizing him, not that they could in the condition he was in. If Ramon knew he was connected to the twins, his life wouldn't be worth shit. But where were they? His finger itched to send Signal Two, Signal Three even, but until he saw the twins –

"Berto!" Ramon's voice rang out as he hopped out of his vehicle. "Hurry! Vargas wants us back at the villa pronto! You have all them all? The children?"

Berto grunted what Quinn guessed was an affirmative reply. The surly Spaniard called out to one of his companions and together they lifted Quinn off the ground. He cried out at the pain that twisted through his guts and felt himself going under again. He clung on to consciousness. Couldn't give in. Not yet.

"The twins?" Ramon barked out. "Are they on board yet?"

The mention of the twins brought Quinn back to the surface. He caught Berto's reply - they were safely locked up in the yacht's cabin. Quinn breathed a sigh of relief. All he needed now was which vessel and how far away. Then send Signal Three.

* * * * *

"No twins." Dante muttered, watching through their NVGs. "Let's hope they've been put on board first." Which was likely since dawn was only a couple of hours away and the port would be coming to life soon. "Split up. Dave, you and Casey take the pier's end and watch for a possible arrival by sea. Beth and I will stay here and watch the road. We haven't got Signal Two so it was possible they're not here yet." Quinn's tracker showed he was on the trawler already so twins or no twins, Dante wasn't taking his sights off him. Not this time. Especially not after talking to Bradley. If it weren't for Petrovsky, Dante would have aborted the mission as soon as Bradley hung up but Petrovsky's involvement meant the twins' abduction was for real. For whatever reason, Bradley was using it to set Quinn up. Just as he set Quinn up in St. Petersburg.

They watched the trawler move off from the pier. Nearby, the sounds of other vessels accompanied the muted voices of the remaining guards who drove away as soon as the trawler pulled away from its moorings.

"Dave, how close is the Zodiac?" Dante asked through his mic.

"About five hundred yards away." Dave's reply came back.

"Tell Tom we need him now." Dante's voice was calm but Dave could tell from the clipped tone their mission leader was tense and worried. They all knew about what happened to Quinn in St. Petersburg even if they didn't talk about it.

"Tom's reporting that Vargas' yacht is still anchored one click away from the mouth of the river where it was yesterday." Dave said.

"Quinn's on the trawler so my money's on the twins being on it, too, waiting for transfer to the yacht."

"Then why hasn't he sent Signal Two?" Dave asked. Dante was about to reply but Dave's voice cut him off.

"Zodiac's here."

Like a hungry alligator in the bayou, The Zodiac moved silently into the moorings further down the pier just as the trawler moved off. Everything was quiet and relatively still. Only a few lights were on in the marina's buildings, mostly security lights. The other trawlers, what few there were, were all darkened as the ones in use were still out fishing.

"Let's move!" Dante barked. "Go! Go! Go!" They ran towards the moorings and one by one jumped into the waiting Zodiac.

"Yo," Tom called out.

"Follow that train!" Casey said. "I mean boat."

"Gun it, Tom." Dante sat down heavily. "We have to take the chance the twins are already loaded up on the trawler before we got here or already on the yacht. Whatever we find - or don't - get Quinn out."

He didn't tell any of them about Bradley telling him Quinn had already left for another hush-hush job. It was something he wanted to keep to himself for now. Like Dave, he wondered why Signal Two or Three hadn't been sent. They were so sure the twins were on board somewhere.

Before his next thoughts were formed, Signal Three sounded.

* * * * *

The Zodiac had stayed a safe distance away, tailing the trawler like a hungry shark. Once the kids were loaded onto the yacht the Zodiac waited until the trawler left then came silently alongside the luxury vessel.

The four black-clad figures clambered up the yacht while Tom waited for them to retrieve their targets. Locating the twins turned out to be easier than Dante thought. A dozen crying kids weren't all that hard to find, not to mention the shouts of the men telling them to shut up.

They made short work of the guards, each one picked off like sitting ducks in a carnival shooting gallery. The crew had been herded into the galley and locked in.

"See this?" Casey asked the terrified crew. He held up a contraption with a couple of wires sticking out. "It's a bomb. You stay in here and don't try to open the door and you'll live. Open the door and - KA BOOM. Easy, right?"

The door slammed open just then, causing shrieks and terrified shouts from the crew. Dante barked at Casey, his weapon sweeping the room. "Secure this room. We're going after Quinn."

"Twins?" Casey asked ask as they hurried to the stateroom where Quinn's tracker showed he was.

"Already in the Zodiac," Dante replied. "Guards on deck and in the room holding the girls have been neutralized but we don't know how many more are on board. Watch my six."

"Got it." Casey rounded the corner after Dante, checking their rear but it was clear.

* * * * *

Quinn had regained consciousness and sent Signal 3 as soon as he realized they had come alongside Vargas' yacht, her name visible when the trawler's search light shone on it. The twins had not been on the trawler but been taken straight to the yacht as Berto had said.

Fifteen minutes, Dante had said but in his current state, one minute felt like a lifetime too long. He'd once heard someone say you get used to the pain. Whoever said that was a moron. You never get used to it. It just made you fantasize of a time in your life when you were pain-free.

The events of the last few days were getting muddled and faces swam before him. Forcing himself back to his location, he listened for any sounds that could indicate a rescue was underway. He needed to stay conscious long enough to tell Dante about Bradley. About his mother's request. He had been dumped on the floor. There was a dressing gown laid out on the bed just hanging over the edge. Gathering what little strength he had, he pulled it down over his bruised, naked body.

From what he'd overheard, he could forget everything by tomorrow. He strained to catch the faintest sound and thought he heard some muffled shouts but the pain roaring through his body and the mother of all headaches made it difficult to distinguish the sounds from those of the marina. One eye throbbed and the other itched and throbbed. Still cuffed. Couldn't scratch. He lifted a shoulder to rub his itching eye but hissed when a sharp pain lanced through from shoulder to eyeball. Fuck! Since when were shoulders connected to eyeballs?

Something dribbled down his cheek, running into his lips. The cut on his forehead was bleeding again. He hoped he made a fucking mess of the carpet he could feel under him.

The cabin was pitch dark so he couldn't make out anything except for a slight lightening at the end of the room from the yacht's window. He tried to clamber to a sitting position but his body refused to co-operate.

The blessed inner darkness was just claiming him when the door burst open and two men, head to toe in black, slipped in like phantoms. A quick sweep of the flashlight and Dante moved quickly to Quinn who was laying on a fetal position on the floor, covered with what looked like a towel.

"We gotcha, buddy." Dante's whisper sounded in Quinn's ear and he managed what sounded like a half laugh, half whimper. "Let's get you outta here," Dante said, removing the towel and sweeping his flashlight over Quinn's body. "Oh fuck, Quinn. What have they done to you?"

 

_Meanwhile..._

_11.30pm, Saturday;_

_Rota, Spain_

"Another thirty minutes and V-1 will be in our possession," Staz said, stretching his massive body. "How about some sightseeing tomorrow before heading home? Get some authentic paella?"

"And some authentic Spanish chicks," Nick added.

"What's wrong with the ones back home?" Staz asked.

"Just because you can speak Spanish doesn't make you Spanish." Nick sniffed.

"Thought you preferred cocks to chicks, anyway." Staz grinned. "It's a joke," he added when Nick looked blank.

"I love people, not their genitals," Nick bit back at his team mate.

"Ha." Staz snorted. "Tell me that again when we go for a swim and Steve's in the pool." Steve was a fund manager friend of Adam's, and visited now and then whenever he was in San Diego. Blessed with a blue chip ass, Nick had once remarked. Staz didn't think that was in the least witty but had refused to examine why the thought of Nick finding another man's ass desirable bothered him. After all, Nick was already fucking the rest of the team. Well, except for Jax and him but then, nobody fucked Jax. Suddenly he realized that none of them fucked Nick either. Strange, seeing how that slut threw himself at Staz at every opportunity. Didn't that boy know that Staz could not fuck him? It'd be downright wrong.

He looked now across the room at Jax, glancing at Nick before swinging his gaze back to his Boss. "What's bugging you, Boss?" he asked quietly, Jax's restlessness since he returned from the villa not escaping him. Mission was accomplished. Or it would be tonight when they took possession of V-1. The hard part - buying it off Vargas before the auction - was over and done with. So why was his CO wearing out the carpet?

Jax had discarded his disguise and was back to his buzz-cut and blue eyes. The scar across his cheek was gone, so was the eye-patch and the scarred flesh around the eyeball. His voice, altered by the nanochip embedded in his throat, was back to normal. He unclenched his fists but continued the quiet pacing.

Nick watched under his dark lashes. Jax's call had come in around midnight, telling them to alert their contact at the Rota Base. Jax returned to the hotel shortly after his call and went straight to sleep. They'd spent the day in the hotel, swimming and napping; waiting for the transfer at twenty-two hundred hours that night.

Nick got out of his seat and went up to Jax, saying quietly, "what's wrong? Something happened back there you haven't told us about?"

Jax's eyes fixed unseeingly on Nick's face. A few seconds passed without any of them saying anything else. Finally, Jax nodded.

Nick pulled him down to sit on the bed, surprised there was no resistance. Showed just how bothered their CO was by whatever was bugging him. Staz came and stood in front of Jax, close enough for their legs to touch. "Spill it, boss." Quietly but firmly said.

His voice devoid of emotion, Jax told the two men about Harry Matthews. When he finished, they waited expectantly but when Jax did not explain what exactly about the night's events disturbed him, they worried perplexed glances.

After several minutes of silence, Jax finally said, "I'm going back for him."

Staz' brows snapped together. "Back for who?"

"For whom." Nick said. "Whom. Not ‘who'."

"Shut up, asslicker." Staz growled, turning back to Jax.

"Matthews," Jax replied.

"Who the heck is Matthews?" Staz asked just as his KnightFone rang. He thumbed it to speaker.

"Stanislaus? Rota here. Jones speaking."

"What you got, Jones?"

"Your cargo. The transfer went through without incident. We should be docking in twenty minutes."

"Good. We'll meet you there." Staz turned to Jax. "Maybe you should give us a bit more detail," he suggested. "So Nick and I can understand why we're going back for this Matthews guy ‘cos you ain't going back there alone. We gotta make our way to the base now. We can go get your Matthews after the inventory check...if we have a good reason why we should. Don't forget we have a flight to catch."

Jax ran his fingers through his hair then realized he'd shaved it off for the switchover to Luis. "Come on." He got up and headed for the door. "I'll fill in the gaps as we go."

 

_0300hours, Sunday; Rota_

The check on V-1 took them several hours. All the weapons were still in their original cases and each scan showed the microchip still intact in the weapons. The shipment safely locked away in one of the Rota warehouses, the three men got back in their vehicles.

Nick looked at Staz and gave a small nod. Staz took a breath. "Okay." He turned to the other two men. "We can go get this Matthews fella. How do you want to do this?"

 

_0400hours, Sunday_

_Vargas' villa_

Jax stayed in the ‘getaway' vehicle watching the two men via Nick's webcam that was attached to his headband. He had parked the vehicle behind the shrubs not far from where Nick and Staz had alighted and through the small tv monitor, watched the two men spill over the walls of the property. He watched the sentry's throat being slit by Nick and, knowing Nick, what would have been an almost severed head lowered back to the floor in the guardhouse. The guard wouldn't even have felt a thing and Jax wondered why he was on the floor in the first place. "Was he asleep or dead?" he asked Nic through their comms.

"Drunk," Nick replied. "Hard to get good help these days."

"There's a spiral stairway here in the inner courtyard," Jax said.

"I see it," Nick's soft reply came. "Also what looks like the corridor on one side of the building. Lights in a room on the west wing. Third level."

"That's the one we want." Jax confirmed.

"Okay, going in. Staz?"

"Already at the base of the stairs." Came Staz's reply.

* * * * *

Vargas had gone to bed early that night. The weapons auction had gone better than he expected despite the sale of his prized cache. When the rest heard the Firebird had paid a sum of money no man in his right mind could refuse, Vargas' credibility had risen several notches and the rest of the item went like the proverbial hotcakes.

He hoped the second auction later this morning would go just as well but having the Petrovsky twins in hand was enough to make Vargas dance a jig if it weren't so early in the morning. Having Matthews waiting for him added to his anticipation of an enjoyable cruise after the auction.

He was shaking the last drops of urine off his dick when a balaclava'd man entered and clamped a hand over his mouth. With the knife at his jugular, there wasn't much Vargas could say or do. His eyes bulging and rolling with panic, he saw the second man through the bathroom mirror coming to stand behind him. A man so huge and menacing, Vargas felt his balls shrivel even before the giant reached down and held them in his paw.

"Puh...please," Vargas squeaked.

"One slice," Nick hissed in Vargas' ear as he pressed the top of the blade to Vargas' jugular, "And you won't be worrying about your balls, Senor Vargas. Where is the Americano?"

"W-who are y-you?" Vargas stammered.

"Where is he?" Nick asked again.

"Who...who are you talking about?"

"Harry Matthews. Tell us where he is or my friend will rip your balls off and flush them down the toilet." Nick tightened his grip on Vargas' throat. A drop of blood appeared where the point of his knife dug in.

"Why...whh - no-oo!" Vargas squealed again as Staz squeezed harder. "Okay! Okay! I'll tell you!"

Nick did not loosen his grip but Staz eased off a fraction.

"My...my yacht," Vargas stammered out. "At the - let...let..go...p-please. At the marina. Please. Let go of my -urrk!"

"Which yacht, which marina?" Nick asked, giving Staz a nod. Staz loosened the squeeze enough for Vargas to answer coherently.

"Here, in Sanlucar de Barrameda. The Calle Puerto de Barrameda!" Vargas grimaced in pain. His balls, his pelvis, mierde!...his whole body felt as if it was being rolled over broken glass and stepped on.

"The yacht's name," Nick hissed.

"Joya del Mar."

"Gracias, Senor Vargas," Nick told him softly. "Now, all you have to do is to accompany us. Get your pants on and make it quick."

Nick aimed his silencer at Vargas as the Spaniard hurriedly grabbed his pants and put them on. Staz snapped the cuffs on Vargas' wrists as soon as he zipped up.

"Is this necessary?" Vargas sputtered.

"Sorry. SOP for us," Nick replied. "We're taking you with us to the yacht so be co-operative. Just be cool and we'll get down you in a sec. Staz will be down there waiting to warm your balls again, don't worry."

"What do you mean? Get down me where?" Vargas looked nervously at Staz. "You want me to go over the balcony? But we are on the third floor!"

Nick ignored Vargas' protest and strapped the harness around him, locking the carabiner and securing Vargas to his belt.

"Why do you want Matthews?"

"Just following instructions from his owner," Nick said, curtly. Jax had told them what Vargas told him last night about Matthews being bought by someone.

"My contact's instructions was for me to take him to Istanbul. He would do the delivery to Matthews' owner." Vargas said. "He did not say anything about sending someone else to do it."

Oh yeah? Nick narrowed his eyes at him. "Well, our instructions was not to let anyone get in the way." He jerked Vargas' cuffs to make his point.

"Are...are you sure you have the right person?"

Nick coughed twice. That was the code for Jax to fill Nick in if the latter heard something that needed clarification when Nick wasn't able to speak to his CO.

"I don't know who the contact is," came Jax's response. "Play along."

"Listen, Vargas. If you don't agree with this, you'll have to take it up with the boss. But we have our orders and we always finish the job. Now get moving." Nick dug in his pants pockets and pulled out a strip of cloth. "This should stop your yammering." He gagged Vargas and lifted the whimpering man over his shoulder. They could ask more questions once they got him out but for now, they had to make sure he didn't start yelling for the guards. Staz had already rappelled down by the time Nick climbed over balcony with his ‘baggage'.

"Don't make a sound, don't struggle." Nick reminded him. "I might panic and drop you. You got that?"

Vargas nodded and hung on to Nick. Ten seconds later, Vargas felt his balls cupped again and Staz's voice in his ear, "Hi there, Sweetie. Daddy's got you." His teeth gleamed menacingly. In a swift movement, he took Vargas off Nick and onto his own shoulder as Nick released the lock from the carabiner.

Five minutes more and they were running towards their pick-up point.

"We're on our way," Nick spoke into his mic.

"No problems?" Jax asked.

"Piece a' cake." Staz replied.

Jax already had the door open when the two men ran up. Depositing their baggage unceremoniously in the back seat they climbed in, the vehicle moving off before the door was even shut.

Staz put on a headset on Vargas and turned on the MP3. Shakira's 2006 hit, Hips Don't Lie, entertained Vargas as they made their way to the marina, masking the men's conversation.

"Vargas has a speedboat he uses to get to his yacht," Nick looked over at Vargas who was chained to the door, Shakira's hips bumping his eardrums. Fifteen minutes later, Nick pointed ahead. "There's the marina entrance." He turned back to Vargas and pulled Shakira from his ears. "Hey, Vargy!" How do you get to your boat? You have a dinghy moored off the pier?"

"Yacht," Vargas corrected him. "It is a yacht and yes, I have a speedboat."

"Keys?"

"In my pocket."

"Take us to it," Staz ordered.

Vargas showed them where to leave the vehicle and they got out of the car. Staz still held on to the chain with Vargas at the other end, his silencer stuck into Vargas' side as Staz huddled him close, his jacket hiding his weapon.

Vargas was puzzled. His orders were to take Matthews to Istanbul to his buyer. Why did Bradley change the plan without letting him know? "Why are you taking him?" he asked again.

Turning around to Vargas, Nick answered him "Boss has obviously changed his mind, hasn't he? When did the Boss last talk to you, anyway?" He was taking a stab in the dark but wanted to see where it took them.

"The day Matthews arrived. He told me to take him to Istanbul tonight."

"Well, that's changed now. He told us to pick Matthews up from your villa tonight and we're the ones to deliver him. Beats me why he didn't inform you." Nick waited a beat then asked, "So what name does the Boss go by with you? We know him as Mr. Ed."

"Mister Ed?" Vargas snorted? "The talking horse from the ‘50s, tv show?" He gave a snort. "My name for him is not so noble as a horse. I call him La Cucaracha." He went off in a peal of laughter. When that died off he strained at his handcuffs. "Why did he not tell me he was having his own men take the pendejo?"

"Probably didn't trust you," Staz replied. "I would have done the same - not show all my cards."

"Perhaps you were occupied and not available to calls?" Jax suggested. Nick threw him a look.

"Ah yes, perhaps." Vargas hardly spared the driver a glance.

To Vargas, the man at the wheel was a complete stranger. Having shed his high-tech disguise, the hot intensity of Luis had been replaced by Jax's boyish charm - one he kept only for his men and his family and when the occasion needed the contrast to his alter-ego. If he were naked, Vargas would see only a bronzed, muscled back, a few scars, but no tattoo. No scar down the cheek, pulling at the upper lip, a pair of twinkling blue eyes instead of golden ones and a pair of dimples that weren't hidden by a heavy five o'clock shadow.

Leading them to his speedboat Vargas pointed to the direction his yacht was moored. "The yacht is anchored over there. Drive in here and park then we go to the speedboat."

"What's in store for him in Istanbul, anyway?" Nick asked conversationally.

Vargas shrugged. "I was hoping you could tell me. "Remove these cuffs." He told Staz. "We're already at the marina."

Staz ignored him.

Nick persisted. "Is he hot? Young? Old?"

Vargas shrugged again. "He's okay. Too old to be interesting."

"Then why all this effort to get him to Istanbul? On your yacht, no less."

Vargas glared at them. He wasn't going to tell them anything even if he knew. He was still trying to figure why Bradley had sent in his men for Matthews when they reached his speedboat and further conversation was curtailed. The lull in Nick's subtle interrogation was only temporary. A soon as they moved off from the moorings, in pit bull fashion, he resumed his line of questioning. "The boss must have decided he wants Matthews for himself."

"I don't know," Vargas said with a frown as he mulled over the change of plans himself.

"You know what puzzles me?" Nick looked straight at Vargas, as if what he was about to say was critical. "Why La Cucaracha didn't get this package directly to the buyer. Why go through you then have us come and take him off you?" He moved nearer till he was an inch away from Vargas' face. "And not even say anything to you? Kinda suspicious, don't you think?"

"You are insinuating that he's trying to cut me out?" Vargas latched on the thought. Gotcha, Jax smiled as he steered the boat towards the yacht. Very little light was on. Most of the vessel was shrouded in darkness.

"Well, figure it out." Nick took the ball and ran. "When do you get paid for him?"

"When I deliver, of course."

"There you are."

"Who were you supposed to deliver him to?" Jax asked.

"I don't know. I'm only the middleman, don't you know?"

"No, Senor Vargas," Nick said. "I think our boss is the middleman. I think he's decided he wants to be the only middleman and get the full payment for Matthews."

"Why would he do that? This is not our first transaction. All along he gets his cut. He has never complained."

"Obviously, this American is different and for whatever reason, your partner has decided you have served your purpose."

"Mierde!" Vargas spat out. "So now what? He told you to kill me as soon as you get the pendejo?"

Nick shrugged in reply, mimicking Vargas. Their boat neared the yacht and Staz cut the engine as they came alongside. "Behave or you'll get tossed overboard with the handcuffs." Nick warned.

"But not before I slice you up a little to let the sharks know dinner's waiting." Staz grinned.

"Sharks in the sea here are harmless." Vargas snorted.

"You wanna test that?" Staz smiled, pulling out his knife. Vargas held up his cuffed hands. "Okay. Okay. No more games, si?"

"Get moving," Nick hissed. "One sound out of you and I'm leaving you to him." He jerked his chin towards Staz.

They climbed aboard in silence and Jax headed straight for the stateroom after Vargas told him where Matthews was kept. Nick herded Vargas along in front to lead the way while Staz checked out the rest of the vessel. When they came to the master stateroom, Nick indicated to Vargas to open the door. Jax gave a quick glance behind them before following the two men into the stateroom.

Staz came bounding in just as Vargas started yelling curses. "Six dead," the words coming out fast and urgent. "Double-taps." He tapped his own chest with two fingers. Crew locked in the galley but unhurt. No one else on board." He looked at the two dead bodies in the stateroom. "Make that eight dead."

Vargas was still screaming blue murder. In Spanish. "What do you mean no one else on board?" he rounded on Staz. "Where is my shipment? Where is Ramon? The twins? Mierde!" He stopped suddenly. "Where is Matthews?"

 

_____________

tbc


	10. PART ONE - Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This short chapter closes Part One of our story. As Quinn recovers from his injuries following reconstructive surgery at KnightShade MediCom, Alex Knight is having dinner with Anthony DiNozzo Sr, who is having worries of his own over his son, NCIS agent Tony.

_Present-Day_

_KnightShade MediCom, San Diego._

"Wake up, Mr. Masterson."

 _What? Again?_ Someone patted his hand. "Wake up, Sexy thang."

That cleared the fog in his brain a little. "Where am I?" Didn't he already ask that?

"Surgery's over, Mr. Masterson." The nurse told him instead of answering him. "You're in Recovery and everything went marvelously. Drs. Kowalski and Andrani will be along to see you later. Can you move your hand? Good. Just buzz if you need anything. I'm Fiona, your nurse. We'll move you to your room as soon as your doctors have finished checking you."

"Want to see," Quinn said, trying to move the bandage around his eyes. "What happened to my eyes?"

"Yes, well, once your doctors are done, we'll possibly be able to let you see through your right eye. The left one will have to remain covered for another week or so."

"What time is it?"

"Seven in the evening."

"How long have I been here?"

"You were transferred here yesterday late afternoon from Sharp Memorial."

That's right. He was at Sharp Memorial and Alex had visited him. Everything was a blur after that. "Where's 'here'?"

"KnightShade Medical Command." Nurse Fiona told him. "MeiCom for short. You underwent surgery for Traumatic Optic Neuropathy - your optic nerve was damaged. Don't worry, your eyes will be fine. KnightShade has the most advanced technology available. Your cybernetic transplants went great!" Fiona grinned as she checked his blood pressure and other vitals.

_My what?_

"The doctors will be able to tell you more. Here, swallow these."

Quinn did as he was told.

* * * * *

"How's your long-lost son?" Anthony DiNozzo asked Alex that night during dinner.

"You know something?" Alex asked, instead of answering the question. "I'm wondering if things might be easier if he had turned out to be a teenage moron."

"You're saying he's a thirty-four year-old idiot instead?"

"Even that would have been better. No, Quinn's no idiot and that's what makes things difficult. Anthony, I'm afraid I find myself in the same boat as you are - a son left on my proverbial doorstep who's a spook. A spook! He doesn't know I know, of course, but I can't have my son running around playing James Bond with that bunch of incompetents over there." Alex griped. "Oh, alright. So not all of them at the Central Idiot Agency are idiots..."

"We're not exactly in the same boat," DiNozzo said. "My son is not a spook. He's a Fed."

"My apologies. You're worse off than me, then."

"So what's your solution?" DiNozzo asked, laughing at Alex's good-natured insult.

"Patch him up first. Then give him a job at KnightShade, lock the doors and throw away the key."

DiNozzo huffed. "Let me know how that works out. If it does, I'm going to ask that you do the same for _my_ son. NCIS may be worlds better than the CIA, contrary to your opinion, and that Gibbs man, he's okay. Just a little oblivious, though."

"About?"

"My son's infatuation with him, though ‘infatuation' is probably too weak a word. Junior is quite smitten."

"If he's as sharp and intuitive as you've told me he is, I'm sure he knows and is of the opinion that ignoring it is the best strategy."

DiNozzo shook his head. "I hope he knows how to handle Junior. He's the closest thing to a father my son has."

"There's something not quite right with that statement." Alex frowned. "We are two screwed-up old men, DiNozzo."

"I agree. Alex —" DiNozzo paused.

"Yes?"

"I need your help about something concerning Tony, Alex."

"What is it?"

"I need you to put him under surveillance. Bug his apartment."

"What are you looking for?"

"Proof that my son is not involved any terrorist activity against the NCIS or any other agency."

Alex didn't answer immediately. He took out his cigar box and offered it to DiNozzo before taking one himself. "Do you think he is?"

"No, but his director is already being watched. I want to make sure if he ever falls under suspicion, I have proof to show he's not involved."

"Have a tail on him."

"I already do but very discreetly, of course." Anthony said. "The last thing I need is for Tony to start investigating why he's under surveillance. That'll bring that guard dog of his charging in -"

"That Gibbs guy?"

"Yes, his team leader and it would also bring Shepard into the mix. We can't have that. She's been sniffing around Zhuravylov and it's going to land her in a lot of trouble. If she finds out one of her agents is being monitored, she could step up on her investigation."

"I don't like the sound of that," Alex said.

"What?"

"Her investigating Zhuravylov. Why would she be doing that? We don't want her anywhere near Operation Sirin, Anthony. I don't care what it takes but make sure she's in no way involved. One wrong move from her and she could destroy ten years of work."

"I keep an eye on Shepard and you, my son."

"And if he _is_ involved?"

"Then _you_ have the evidence you need but let me be the first to know."

Alex blew out a stream of fragrant smoke. "I'll see to it."


	11. PART TWO - Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We leave Spain behind and begin Part Two of our story.
> 
> Quinn has been in KnightShade’s Rehab facility for a year.
> 
> Dante’s dead, according to news reports and Quinn has major decisions to make so he heads down to Cabo san Lucas at the tip of the Baja, to stay with a good friend and ex-CIA op, Ricardo O’Malley.
> 
> Jax and Quinn have yet to meet. That’s a couple of chapters away.

_One Year Later_

_January 2008_

Quinn spent six months in rehab, following several reconstructive surgeries. After that he had undergone intensive training to get his body back to an acceptable level of fitness. Now, one year after he was taken to KnightShade USA, Quinn was only just starting to feel normal again though from what he'd seen and heard, ‘normal' and KnightShade was an oxymoron.

A week before his discharge from MediCom, Alex had visited Quinn and asked him to join the organization. He hadn't quite jumped at the chance, but didn't reject it outright, either. Alex hadn't pressed but asked him to give it some serious thought.

"I know it's a lot for you to absorb," Alex had said one time after he'd given Quinn an overview of the PMC. "But physically, you've done extremely well, surpassing even our doctors' expectations. You're currently Rohan's blue-eyed boy."

Quinn had been pleased with himself as well, if a little over-awed. He'd been told that when he was brought into KnightShade's secret medical facility, his body had been so wrecked they were surprised he was still alive. The external injuries were superficial - the lashes on his shoulders, back and legs were minor injuries. It was the internal injuries that made the KnightShade doctors blink and they had seen a lot. Some serious damage had been afflicted on his anal passage resulting in traumatic fistula.

KnightShade ‘s D&T didn't just design weapons of destruction. Its work on cybernetics - biomedical engineering and bionics - put it way ahead of the most advanced technologies available. As as result, what KnightShade gave Alex's son was a body repaired and restored to a strength and resilience way beyond what the average person had. Quinn Masterson-Knight (Quinn finally agreed on the name change) was now like "one of us" as Nick would have said, in that creepy voice, if he'd met Quinn then.

Only one thing had not been restored but Alex was not prepared for Quinn to undergo the experimental tests for memory recovery. He'd told the MediCom doctors and shrinks that he'd rather wait and let Quinn recover them without artificial intervention.

"You can't recall a thing?" Alex had asked him.

Quinn had shaken his head. A combination of anterograde and retrograde amnesia. That was what they told him he possibly had but that there were traces of drugs that could have contributed to the amnesia even though that type of amnesia was a result of trauma to the brain. 

He'd told Alex he would be going back to San Francisco to attend to some personal matters, having been away for a whole year.

He needed to get some space and time to process all that had happened, not least meeting his biological father. Did he want to take Alex's job offer? Did he want to move to San Diego? Did he even want this father-son relationship? Then there was also all those questions related to the circumstances of how he was found.

 What the hell had happened to him? He knew he'd quit Raven Resources, the security company he'd joined at the CIA, at least a year ago so whatever job he was doing when he was injured, it was an indie.

* * * * *

Everything in his house was as he last remembered it, except his bikes which were in a storage facility. While he was recovering at KnightShade, Alex had arranged for his furniture to be covered and the perishables to be thrown away.

The first thing Quinn did was go to the storage facility and take back his most prized possessions - the Ducati and the Road King Classic which he'd dumped the Ducati for  - the Italian made his ass hurt in the worst way.

Quinn sat in the living room of his house, contemplating his next step. A couple of days after his surgery, he'd caught a news coverage about a group of Americans killed in a suspected drug deal gone wrong. Details were sketchy and only one of the dead had been identified - Dante Santorelli - said to be a CIA operative gone rogue. Alex, who was with Quinn when the report came on, asked if that Dante, whose photograph had been shown, was the Dante who'd led Alex to him. Quinn had told Alex he didn't know. At the time, he didn't know what information would be safe to give. Or who it was safe to give it to. It was now one year since Alex had answered that phone call and taken him from that warehouse; one year since Alex had acknowledged his paternity, arranged for Quinn's surgery and enabled him to leave KnightShade MediCom with a good-as new-body.

He'd gotten as much information on his father and KnightShade as he could, even talking to the DEA and FBI agents who were sent to KnightShade for their annual skills check and enhancement programs. They hadn't told him anything he didn't already know.

He threw away the empty chow mein carton and went to pack a bag, still grappling with Dante's death. His memory he could possibly recover. His friend? No. Could he be so lucky that there was a mistake? That Dante's death was faked? Quinn gave a snort. His luck had stunk for awhile now. Whichever it was, anyway, a misidentification or faked, it meant he had to be careful who he asked about him. Which meant KnightShade was the safest place for him at the moment.

That may be so but Quinn still needed to think things through a bit more. He grabbed his bag and fifteen minutes later, he was roaring down the Interstate 5 towards L.A. and the Mexican border.

At nightfall he checked into a motel. At sun-up he crossed the border into Tijuana then stopped for breakfast before getting on the Ensanada Highway 1D, the scenic route which hugged the Pacific coast, and would take him through Mexico's vineyards and nature parks on the second leg of his road trip before he took the coastal road again to Cabo San Lucas.

Nothing like a road trip, especially an impromptu one, to shake off the blues. At least for awhile.

Like all sensible Americans, he had lunch at Mama Espinosa's in El Rosario - the start of his ride into the interior mountains and deserts of Baja. He took a dump after lunch, as usual, then filled up at the PEMEX station, continuing south until he got on the Trans-peninsula Highway.

It was already dark by then, the street-lighting expectedly poor but he wasn't in a hurry. Alex's offer was in Quinn's mind as he cut through the sparse Mexican landscape shrouded in darkness. His body had healed, thanks to the space-age technology at KnightShade, and he'd gotten a first-hand look at the PMC's facilities. He'd been with the CIA since he graduated with an Honors degree in landscape architecture and was planning to do his graduate studies when the Agency came calling. The two suits had bought him a cup of coffee then offered to get him a place at MIT's School of Architecture and pay the fees if he would undertake a few assignments.

‘A couple' turned into a permanent one when where Quinn would be called upon to don his James Bond suit and do the spy thing at functions he'd get an invitation to. At first he'd thought being a landscaper or horticulturist would be more of an impediment than a help. After all, what could any of those high-powered businessmen and politicians have to talk to a gardener about? Turned out a lot of them were as serious about their orchids as they were about the agenda of the upcoming Summit at Davos. Maybe the Agency did know what they were doing, offering him a job.

But, as every agent could attest, things sometimes went wrong. Hell had broken loose for Quinn during one of his assignments and he'd found himself the victim of a double-cross. He'd spent one week in a basement cell until a team of men broke in and got him out. He didn't know who his rescuers were, whether they were there just for him or there were other prisoners. Later, he found out they were contracted by a friend. That friend turned out to be Arkady Petrovsky whose family Quinn had protected for several years.

They had met when Petrovsky, who was due to testify against a group of men for racketeering, murder and money laundering, needed round-the-clock protection for his family and himself. Quinn had been part of a team made up of an assortment of FBI agents and a couple of Blackwater operatives.

He'd ended up spending more personal time with Petrovsky than any of the other agents. For some reason, Petrovsky had taken to him and Quinn had even built a tree house for the younger Petrovsky children, Maksim and Mischa. He'd been a listening ear for the older ones, Andrei and Irina, the twins.

There was an attempt to kill Petrovsky, as expected, but it was foiled and Quinn took a bullet meant for the industrialist. Quinn had dived in front of the target but also pulled the young Maksim and Mischa with him as the front of their house was sprayed with bullets. Quinn took two hits to the kevlar and one to his leg, narrowly missing an artery.

After that, he had become more or less a permanent fixture in their home. He'd left the CIA and his semi-permanent job guarding the Petrovsky family to join Raven Resources after a falling out with his handler, Bradley Weston.

* * * * *

Quinn rode up to the entrance of the Maria Celeste in the coastal town of San Quintin, because it would let him park his Harley in the lobby. A US$35 a night, it was a good deal, with hot water and clean sheets. He had dinner at a nearby restaurant which served the best seafood he'd had in ages and joined a table of half a dozen tourists from Texas who, like him, were going to Cabo San Lucas. Tracy, a redhead, and her blonde friend, Robin, made it clear to him what they wanted for dessert. Quinn obliged, surprised and grateful his dick wasn't suffering from amnesia. The girls were easy to be with, knew what they wanted - from him and each other - and once everyone was sated, they returned to their rooms.

He checked out the next morning while it was still dark and by the time it was light, Quinn roared into El Rosario, the only gas station for the next 200 miles.

 

_End of the Road Hotel;_

_Cabo San Lucas;_ _Baja California Sur_

Quinn reached Cabo San Lucas before dark and turned into a sprawling multi-tiered adobe building fronting the beach. A profusion of colorful blooms spilling from the small hotel's balconies and windows. The roar of his Harley had the owner coming out, a grin splitting his tanned face.

Ricardo O'Malley had already been with the Agency more than five years when Quinn joined. With an Irish-Chinese father and a Mexican-Norwegian mother, Rico was an interesting mix, to say the least.

"Hola, my friend. Good to see you, at last." Rico opened his arms and hugged the taller, larger man. "Looking good, man. Looking good." He searched Quinn's face. "Come meet ‘the little woman'."

The little woman turned out to be a tall, black-haired beauty in her forties with warm, liquid eyes that crinkled up when she smiled. "At last, we meet! I am Carmen, Rico's wife." She embraced Quinn and kissed him on both cheeks. "Rico's told me a lot about you. Sit down. There's fresh coffee and bread."

"I know. I could smell both before I even stepped in." Quinn smiled. "This is a great place you have here." He looked around the large kitchen outfitted with commercial-style ovens, an enormous island table-top where a large basket filled with freshly-baked loaves sat. The large dining table, where Carmen led Quinn to, overlooked the Pacific. In an hour, Carmen said, the place would be packed with hungry tourists who preferred a smaller, cheaper alternative to the luxury resorts and bigger hotels nearby.

"Yeah, this is the best thing that ever happened to me after I quit the Agency." Rico took the two mugs of coffee from Carmen and sat down at the table." This view, this hotel. The women aren't half-bad either." He winked at Carmen who put the basket of bread on the table and promptly threw a roll at him.

"What the hell have you done to deserve a woman like her?" Quinn asked.

"Nothing at all. It was entirely her doing. One dinner date and she couldn't live without me." He chuckled and took a sip of the scalding hot coffee.  "I handed in my resignation on the anniversary of Marla's death six months after you left," Rico said, his voice suddenly sobering. "You know - needed to do that reflect-on-your-life thing, priorities, values...mid-life crisis shit."

"At least you didn't marry an eighteen year-old bimbo." Quinn chuckled, slathering herbed butter on his bread.

"Just a forty-three year-old one."

Another bread roll came flying across the room, smacking Rico on the side of his head. "I heard that!" Carmen said from the other side of the kitchen.

Rico laughed. "Nah, didn't have to go through that phase, thank God. Don't tell her I told you, but Carmen's the reason I like waking up in the morning." He said, deliberately loud enough for his wife to hear. He paused after that, eyes fixed on Quinn's face. "So what's up? No word from you after you quit and no one at the Agency could tell me where you went to."

"Things changed after I got back from St Petersburg. Then my mother died the next year..."

And then my wife." Rico shook his head. "Yet there you were, a pillar of strength." He waited a moment then said, "That St Petersburg case -"

When Rico didn't continue, Quinn put down the butter knife and looked at him, "what about it?"

"Always smelled bad to me."

"Still?"

Rico nodded. "I'd still be careful if I were you."

"I am."

"Rico, you should take Quinn up to his room," Carmen said. "Please excuse me for not being able to join you, Quinn." She bent and gave her husband a kiss. "I will send some wine and bread up. Come down for dinner when you're hungry."

 "The house was left to Carmen," Rico explained as they left the kitchen. "Much smaller building, but the grounds were pretty decent. I used part of my savings to turn the three spare bedrooms we had into a bed-and-breakfast. Brought in enough for us to live. That piece next door where the boutique hotel is? Was part of this property. Her family had bought it back when this was the ass-end of the world no one in his right mind visited." He huffed. "We were gonna save up enough to extend the house then one day this guy rings up and makes us an offer."

Rico told him they used part of the proceeds to rebuild their little B&B and there were ten guestrooms and he and Carmen lived in the annex together with her aunt and a couple of cousins who all helped staff the hotel. The rest of the help, they hired when needed. He led Quinn to his room, adding that they'd designed the four-story building so that every room had a balcony facing the ocean. Each level was connected to the other via a pathway, leading to the ground-level bar-café which fronted the beach.

The king-size bed in Quinn's room faced the balcony with a couple of deck-chairs and a small table. Cheery prints and a single colored feature wall in what Rico said was called ‘mango'. He saw Quinn's brow lift and added a little defensively to Quinn's amusement, ‘that's what Carmen called it so that's what it is. But my CIA training tells me it's really orange-yellow."

Carmen had sent up a carafe of red wine and a plate of jalapeno poppers and Rico took them out into the balcony. Quinn dropped his bag on the luggage counter and joined him.

The two men settled down on the chairs and Rico poured out the tea.

"So, what brings you to this part of the world?"

Quinn waited a beat then told Rico about waking up in Sharp Memorial. About Dante phoning this guy called Alex Knight who was his biological father. "That's what I was told after I regained consciousness. I remember none of it. I don't even remember meeting Dante. I haven't seen Dante in years. All I remember is that I was planning to go on vacation once my last contract job was done.

"You don't think you were on an undercover assignment with Dante and it went belly up?"

"I'd considered that. Would be the only reason why Dante took off, wouldn't it? He must have known, somehow, that it was safe for me to be with my father then went into hiding."

"But how did he know this guy would be kosher?"

"I must have told Dante to call him," Quinn said. Seeing Rico's look of surprise, he explained, "I found some letters my mom wrote when I cleaned her house up to sell. She wrote one to my dad explaining who I was - his love child - and one to me instructing me to hand Knight's letter personally to him. She also gave me a sort of code word that would ensure Knight would take the letter.

"So, anyway, that was weeks ago and she'd given me his number to call should I need to. It was an easy number to remember - 858-555-8585."

"That's a North San Diego area code. La Jolla, Del Mar..."

"Yes, so I must've given it to Dante and told him to call Knight. He turned up, probably because I used the code name."

"Then what happened? He took you to the hospital without talking to Dante?"

"Dante was gone when Alex arrived, according to him. I'd say Dante hung around only long enough to check out my father's reaction. Maybe even followed us and saw that I was being hospitalized. After that he must have taken off but why?"

"And no contact since?" Rico scratched his chin. "I wouldn't worry about that part. Don't forget Dante's used to working under cover. He doesn't know how to do otherwise! He'll turn up when he believes it's safe and knowing Dante as we do, I'd go with the conclusion that both of you were involved in a job. It got fucked up and you managed to get out. You were too injured for Dante to take you along with him so when you tell him who to call for help, that's a stroke of luck for him. Once he sees you'll be okay he disappears. Why? Because Dante, suspicious, paranoid bastard that he is, believes his life is in danger because of this op - or it could even be another op of his coming back to kick his ass - but in any case, he runs once he's taken care of you."

"That sounds about it."

"When did you get out of hospital?"

"Last year. January."

"This happened a year ago?" Rico's voice went up a few decibels. "And you're telling me this _now_?"

"I was pretty banged-up. Needed extensive surgery. If my father hadn't taken me to his medical center, I wouldn't be looking the way I am today. It took me a whole year to recover and get through the intensive rehab to work my body parts again.

"I was raped, rico." Quinn added, his voice muted, eyes averted.

"Shit." Rico wiped his hand down his face. "I'm sorry, Quinn."

"You remember what happened to those people in the DRC that got raped by the militiamen? They ended up with traumatic fistula?"

"Fuck. No." Rico's voice was tight with shock. "You weren't in DRC, were you? Is that what happened to you?"

"No. Not in DRC." Quinn sighed heavily, his own memories of the times he'd been in the DRC, even briefly, had horrified him beyond belief.

"Oh God." Rico's eyes widened. "Are you - did the doctors -"

"These docs are the best. I'm not just hundred per cent good, my ass is practically rape-proof." Quinn snorted.

"Do I even want to know what that means?"

"Means if I were gay, the whole of the CIA could fuck me and my ass wouldn't even have a dent."

"Man, that sounds gross. Besides, they already are fucking with you." Rico refilled their glasses and offered Quinn a cookie. "So what's next on your agenda?"

"Find Dante. Find out what happened. Need to get my memory back. It's only one missing week but obviously an important week."

"How do you plan to do that?"

"Not sure. That's why I decided to come down here and chill for a week. Should have a plan by the time I leave. You got room for me for a week? If not, I can go to one of those fancy resorts further up the beach."

"Do that if you want to end up with a dead friend." Rico warned. "You think Carmen's gonna let you stay in another hotel? You stay put in this room.

"Thanks."

"How does it feel to have a dad again?"

"Still getting used to it."

"I can imagine."

"I can't figure him out yet. He saved my life, acknowledged me as his son but he's not exactly beating down my door to make up for lost time either. He did come by to see me once a week when I was in hospital but once I recovered I only saw him a couple of times."

Rico set his glass down. "Quinn, you aren't exactly Mister Approachable yourself, you know. Has your father asked to see you since you got out? Have dinner or something? Is he married? If he is, he's having to think about breaking it to the missus, you thought of that? To his children, if he's got any. "

"He's not married."

"What's his name?"

"Alex. Alex Knight."

"Is he employed? And I mean _gainfully_ employed."

"Yes, he is and no, he hasn't got a gold mine to sell me."

"Not yet." Rico said, darkly. "So where did you leave off with him? You guys going to stay in touch?"

"He offered me a job with his organization."

"He owns a business?"

"Yes. You should know it. The Agency sends a lot of its operatives there for training."

"What sort of training?"

"Upgrading of skills, force protection training, specialized skills like hostage negotiation, spec ops training. That sort of thing."

"Waitaminute." Rico straightened up. "You said his name is Alex Knight. You meant Alex Knight of KnightShade USA?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Damn!" Rico smacked the arm of his chair. "Double damn. You're Knight's son." Rico shook his head. "And the place you went to recuperate? KnightShade?

"Yes. The organization looks quite huge. I thought they just provided the usual security and I know their training programs are top-notch. Pricey but no defense agency or anyone whose life depends on their skills would forgo a KnightShade training program. I was scheduled to be in the next batch when I quit."

 Shit. You do know he's a billionaire, don't you?"

"No, I didn't." Quinn replied.

"He offered you a job, you said."

"Yeah."

"You taking it?"

"I'm considering it. I mean, it could come in useful for us to locate Dante."

"Did he say what kind of job? Does he know you're ex-CIA?"

"No." Quinn's reaction elicited a look from Rico. "Or, if he does, he didn't tell me."

"Until I find out what happened to me and how Dante's involved, I want to say as little as possible. I'm planning to pay the old man a visit on my way back from here. See what he has to offer. He did mention that if I didn't find anything I liked at KnightShade, I could check out Theron-Knight Atomics."

Rico made a rude noise. "Just sayin this as friend, okay? If you can't find a suitable job at KnightShade with your skills and experience, you ain't gonna find it at Theron-Knight. Only mad scientists need apply. I'm serious.

 "Your biological daddy is not just the CEO of a PMC that's the biggest, the most sought-after and respected outfit. He's also pretty tight with the eldest Theron son. Lots of mutual back-scratching there, apparently. This is where things get complex and murky. They claim they're only dealing in specialized training for the DoD and its cousins but there's talk KnightShade's also into secret development of all kinds of sophisticated weaponry and counter-intelligence stuff. Do it with Theron-Knight Atomics. The two names are a powerhouse."

Quinn shook his head. "What's the name of that that guy again? The one Knight's close to?"

"Jax Theron. He's some kind of whizzkid but I remember there was an incident back in the ‘90s. He was abducted or something. Kept by some druglord in Colombia or Mexico as his sex slave. The family hushed it up. Some suspect they paid a huge ransom to get him back in one piece. Some rumors have it that they got his body back in one piece, but not this." Rico tapped his temple. "Whatever, man -  you and he are rich. You're megasphere rich. And Theron? And we're talking _stratosphere_ rich."

Quinn shook his head. "How do you know all this?"

"I keep in touch with old friends in the Agency." Rico grinned. "I have plenty of time to surf the ‘net. You'd be surprised the kind of stuff you find until someone wakes up and realizes it should be classified."

"I would think you have your hands full running a hotel, even if it's just a small one, to have time to surf the 'net."

"Nah, my job's mainly to chat up the customers, do the PR stuff and stay out of the kitchen. Anyway, I was wanting to say - your daddy's no fool. If he offered you a job, you can be sure he's already checked you out and know you aren't some lowlife loser out to get a couple of bucks from him." He paused. "Okay, make that a couple of million bucks.  But whatever you do, stay away from Jax Theron."

"Why?"

"Heard the guy has his own gay version of the Rat Pack."

Quinn snorted and spewed a mouthful of lemon tea. "Did you say _gay_ version of the Rat Pack?"

"There's plenty of rumors about his dalliances with male models, actors...anything with a pretty face and a dick. Used to be women as well but I read somewhere he's decided he's gay, not bi. And you, mi amigo, you're not a playa. You may be gay - not that it's any of my business but -"

"Whoa. Whoa. Back up a sec. Who says I'm gay?"

Rico looked at him. "Dante."

Quinn's mouth was agape.

"Who else?" Rico rolled his eyes. "He wouldn't believe me when I said you're not gay. Said he swore by his gaydar," Rico made quotation marks with his fingers, "however the hell that works." He laughed and pretended to swing his dick from left to right and back. "Maybe his cock works like a divining rod."

"I'm not gay, Rico."

"Okay. Whatever."

There was a knock on the open door and the two men looked up. "Senor, sorry, mail come for you this afternoon but I was busy and forgot to give you." A young Mexican girl entered, holding out an envelope to Rico.

"It's okay, Maria." Rico took the letter from her, looking at the printed envelope. It bore a Brazilian stamp. No sender or return address. He ripped open the small envelope and read the small handwritten note. "Well shit me."

"What?" Quinn took the note Rico was holding out to him. Quinn recognized the handwriting immediately. The message was short and cryptic.

_If you hear from Tarzan, say hi for me. Tell him I'm good but to watch out for Tondo, not to contact him, to stay out of sight or he'll end up dead. Like me._

_Ciao, Pepe LePew_

_Ps: Don't forget to eat this after you finish reading it._

  _Pepe LePew_. Quinn's codename for Dante, named after the 1945 cartoon featuring an amorous skunk. _Tondo_ was for Bradley's codename. Quinn had named his handler after the district in Manila known for its mountainous heaps of garbage. _Tarzan_ was his and Rico's was _Zorba_ because he looked like a young Anthony Quinn in the movie, Zorba, the Greek. The three of them were the only ones who knew the codenames. The appearance of any of them in a message signaled danger. This was the first time they were using it.

"Posting date's a month ago." Rico passed Quinn the envelope. "From Brazil."

"So he was alive as recently as last month." Quinn sucked in a long breath. "His death was faked."

"And Tondo's dead, too."

Quinn's head jerked up from the envelope. "When?" _Bradley was dead?_

"Around the same time Dante ‘died'." Accidental poisoning eating a puffer fish."

"No shit."

Rico shrugged. "Supposed to be a delicacy. Makes a good spy poison, if you ask me."

"But if Dante's death was faked, could Bradley's have been, too?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Rico said. "But it's Dante's death you need to worry about first. If someone else faked it, it means whoever reported it wants us - or you - to think he's dead."

"Why?"

"Lure you out?" Rico blew out an exasperated breath. "Hell, I don't know. We've got too little to go on."

"If the letter was posted a month ago," Quinn said, as if Rico hadn't spoken. "We don't even know if Dante's still alive."

Rico tapped the envelope against his other hand. "You said he called Alex to get you from the warehouse. Why not send this through Alex? Why me?"

Quinn thought about that for awhile before he answered. "After Alex got me to the hospital, I was shut up for six months, remember? I had no contact with anyone outside of KnightShade and even there, I only met a handful of people. Alex wanted to keep my presence there quiet because of the circumstances."

"Why?" Rico asked. "He must know there's more to you than meets the eye. If you were just a victim of a gang-rape, he'd have reported it to the police and you know what else he'd have done? He'd have sicced his boys on whoever attacked you. I can assure you, those guys would be begging to die before Knight's boys are done with them."

Quinn laughed. "You love your drama, don't you?"

"Don't laugh. You know it's true. Your bio-Daddy's an ex-Delta man, dincha know?"

Quinn's eyes flew to Rico. No, he didn't.

"That's right. Got a deadly rep but if anyone can help you find Dante - and keep you safe while you're at it - he and KnightShade would be it."


	12. PART TWO - Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn decides he needs bio-Daddy’s help to find Dante so he accepts Alex’s job offer. After viewing KnightShade’s facilities, he realizes it’s a place he’d give his right nut to work in – if he hadn’t already decided to leave that career behind and return to designing treehouses.
> 
> But even more surprising, he and bio-Daddy seem to be getting along pretty well.
> 
> Alex gives his son a tour of the facilities and Quinn meets the first two members of M31 - Hayden Langley, head of Cybernetics & Bionics division, and Jordan Fletcher, Head of R&D for C4ISR (Command Control, Computers, Communications. Intelligence, Surveillance & Reconnaissance).

_ One week later _

_ KnightShade Comcen; San Diego _

The Harley roared to a stop at the security gates of the KnightShade compound and Quinn, all six feet four inches of muscle, lifted his black shades to reveal a pair of emerald eyes.

The guards weren't impressed.

Nevertheless, after they spoke to Bridget Nixon, as Quinn suggested, one of them escorted Quinn to their CEO's office building instead of merely giving him directions. There, Bridget, Alex Knight's personal assistant, was already waiting in the lobby. No doubt from the curious looks the guards gave Quinn after that, he'd be a topic of speculation for days.

Dante's note had changed a lot of things. Quinn had wanted to leave Los Cabos the next day and start looking for Dante but after discussing it with Rico, decided it wouldn't make much difference if Quinn were to stay a few days more and have Rico to bounce things off before he went to see Alex. Dante had gone underground for six months now and was alive, at least since last month, so in the end Quinn stayed a week with Rico and Carmen. Dante wasn't the only matter at hand, Rico had reminded him. Quinn had his own shit to handle, too. So he stayed and he helped out at the café-restaurant and waited on tables. After the restaurant closed, he and Rico talked. He'd agreed with Rico that he needed to tread extra carefully especially after Rico's enquiry showed that none of Quinn's aliases nor his real name had left the country. Either Quinn was attacked in the US or he was on an OUTCONUS assignment which had all its traces erased. By now he was even more convinced that he needed an ally with the means to help him get the answers he wanted. And find Dante.

He'd left Cabo San Lucas shortly after dawn on Wednesday, having called first to check that Alex would be in the office. He rode through most of the day, stopping only for a light lunch, his toilet-break and gas. Another overnight stop at Ensanada and a cup of coffee at daybreak brought him to KnightShade's offices shortly after eight despite the morning traffic.

* * * * *

"Mr. Masterson-Knight," Bridget Nixon extended her hand. "Welcome to KnightShade. I'll take you to your father's office."

 _Masterson-Knight_. He had to get used to  that. Quinn kept his expression bland, shook the stern-faced woman's hand and followed her.

"What are the other buildings in the complex?" Quinn asked as they waited for the elevator. "I passed by several on my way to this one.

"They house the other divisions," Bridget replied. "The one we're in now is KnightShade's Operations Command. The rest of the complex, including the large pentagonal one in the centre, is Theron-Knight Atomics. KnightShade USA is not part of Theron-Knight Atomics even though we occupy the same grounds. This is just our operational and administrative divisions. The training centers are scattered in different states, each with their own admin offices and accommodations for the staff and trainees."

The ding of the elevator sounded and Bridget keyed in the code for Alex's floor.

* * * * *

"Good morning, Quinn." Alex held out his hand. Behind him, the city and the Pacific stretched out in a 180-degree arc. "Take a seat. What'll you have to drink?"

"A bottle of water would be great, thanks."

"Still or sparkling?" Bridget asked. Her sharp eyes took note of the way father and son sat - both with their right ankle propped over the other knee and gave a small smile. Which her boss caught, of course, earning her a frown which promptly turned her smile into a grin.

"Still." Quinn was relieved, perhaps even surprised, that Alex Knight's p.a. wasn't tall, blonde supermodel material. Bridget Nixon looked the consummate professional in her severe black suit and cream blouse. Her dark hair was pulled back in what Quinn guessed was a French twist, like his mother used to wear, and she was short, curvy and had a pair of lively brown eyes.

Alex gave Bridget an imperceptible nod and his p.a. left quietly, still smiling. "Good to hear from you, Quinn," his father said. "I wasn't sure if I would."

Quinn studied his father, absorbing again the physical similarities, processing the fact that he was sitting face to face with the man who had sired him. Who, to all intents and purposes, acknowledged his paternity and wanted to get to know his son. He'd had time to think about it in Cabo and he had to admit he was still uncertain whether he'd be fully comfortable being related to someone like Alex Knight. He'd googled the man and seen the photos of him stepping out of his Bentley in London, at movie premieres in LA, business conventions in Geneva and the like. Quinn could look good in a tux but there were men like Alex who wore them as if they were born in one.

"I admit I wasn't planning to," Quinn said. "Not so fast, anyway. But during the last couple of days I got to thinking about how I wouldn't be alive today if not for you. You certainly didn't have to get me out of Sharp and into your space-age medical center." He paused. Alex waited for him to continue. "I came to say ‘thank you' and to ask if your job offer is still open."

Alex nodded at his son's level gaze. "Yes, the offer is still open. Where, depends on what you want to do, _can_ do. And do well."

"KnightShade USA."

"Naturally, but even any of my other companies could offer you something." Bridget returned with the tea and Evian and Alex waited till she left to resume talking. "I came across something in your dossier I didn't mention earlier."

"What?"

"You're supposed to be dead."

"I am?" It came out like a statement. _Like Dante._

"We compiled it from a few sources, Alex said. "One of them cited a report of you having been killed in an accident while overseas." Standing up, he asked, "Would you like a tour of the premises? See what we do, how we do it and you can decide later where you think you'll do best in."

Quinn wondered about the abrupt change of subject, unsure whether it was a tactic or Alex was nervous about this whole father-son discovery. "That would be good," he replied. "But you don't need to be my tour guide, though. I'm sure there's someone who can take me around."

"I cleared my schedule when I got your call yesterday." This time it was Alex who studied his son. Probably thought he looked out of place in Alex's office with his worn jeans, white tee-shirt and leather jacket, not to mention his helmet.

"What do you ride?" Alex asked.

"Customized Harley." Quinn relaxed a little.

Alex nodded and buzzed for Bridget, telling her he would be taking Quinn around. "What are your plans for the rest of the day? If you're free, we could take a trip up to the PMC training facilities in Otay."

"I got the time."

"Good." Alex turned back to the speaker phone and asked for a chopper to be ready in an hour.

Alex didn't bother showing Quinn the general offices. "They're just the routine admin staff." He told Quinn. "You'll likely prefer a tour of Theron-Knight Atomics. You don't have clearance for most of the areas, of course, but you'll get a fair idea.

Despite being accompanied by Alex, Quinn was not allowed in the ‘For Authorized Personnel' only areas but he saw enough to make him mind boggle. They took the elevator down to Basement 3 and came out to a spacious lobby. Several people in lab coats were grouped together, listening to a man who was talking animatedly.  No one paid the two men any attention until Alex came right up to them.

"Alex. Good morning." The one speaking greeted him.

“Good morning, Hayden.” Alex nodded at the others. “Good morning, all. I’d like you to meet Quinn Masterson, he’s visiting from San Francisco.” He turned to Quinn, “Hayden heads our Cybernetics & Bionics division.”

Quinn shook hands and saw Hayden glance at the man next to him.

“Jordan Fletcher.” Hayden’s colleague held out his hand. “Head of R&D for C4ISR. Pleased to you meet you, Quinn.”

“Uhh, we’re just about to meet Rohan at L3 to demo the mods for the KnightStar’s surveillance system,” Hayden said to Alex.

"Go on ahead," Alex said. "I'm taking Quinn on a quick tour. Let Rohan know we'll be on our way to Otay in a couple of hours or so. No need for him to cancel his demo and no need to warn Otay ahead of time."

"Yes, sir."

"When is Jax back, you know?"

"He hasn't called in but we're expecting him before the weekend if he's not delayed." Hayden shot Jordan another glance. "Would you like us to call him, sir?"

"That won't be necessary." Alex led Quinn to where several buggys were parked, their bright neon colors a whimsical contrast to the otherwise stark, somber chambers with their clinical glassed-in laboratories.

"Hop in," Alex said, climbing into a dark grey buggy with purple-pink neon light-tube trimming around its chassis' edging. He zipped them through the wide subterranean passage which was flanked by more labs and operational rooms. It was like something out of a sci-fi movie.

After about five minutes, they came out into a large cavernous room where dozens of men and women in white overalls were testing machines and dummies and others were recording what they saw. Two or three doors had signs lit up. One said, ‘Blue Card Entry Only', another ‘Red Card Only' and another said ‘Unauthorized Personnel Will Be Eaten'. Quinn didn't ask.

* * * * *

Shortly before noon Alex and his son landed on KnightShade's private airstrip in Otay.

"Good Morning, Alex." Rohan snapped a salute as Alex climbed out of the helicopter, followed by Quinn.

"Good morning, Rohan." Alex shook his Training Director's hand. "Quinn, meet Rohan Oberoi, he's in charge of all our training programs. Rohan, Quinn Masterson."

"Welcome to KnightShade USA, Quinn."

Quinn shook the hand, wondering about the salute. Was it for real? He was having a hard time getting a fix on KnightShade. On one hand it looked very serious, very professional, down to the intimidating sci-fi-like surroundings yet on the other hand, they had those colorful buggies and funny signage.

"Get us a vehicle." Alex told his training OC. ‘I'd like to show Quinn around."

"I have one ready, sir." Rohan responded. "Shall I drive? My next appointment is not till after lunch and I was about to do an inspection tour myself."

Alex nodded. "That would be great, thank you. Could you grab us some sandwiches? We can eat along the way."

Rohan took them on an extensive tour of the facility at the foot of the San Ysidro mountains. KnightShade, Quinn was told, had training facilities in Maryland, North Carolina, one in New Mexico about to open and a fourth was in the process of construction in the Northern Territories, Australia to provide additional training to the Australian defense forces and the US' allies in the Asia-Pacific .

By the time they finished, Quinn couldn't help being impressed and relieved. If anyone could keep him alive until he recovered his memory and found Dante, it was KnightShade.

* * * * *

"Well?" Alex asked when they got back to his office. " What do you think?"

"Your training programs are great. One of the best." Quinn paused.

"But?"

"I know I'm super-fit after what I went through at your Rehab center but to be honest, I'm a little uncomfortable about just walking into your company and taking a job."

Alex waited a beat before he spoke. "Don't you think I would have already checked with Rohan before I offered you a job in the first place? Don't you think after monitoring your rehabilitation and your training program - on a daily basis, I might add - I'd know what kind of man I'm offering a job to? If you come on board, Rohan would be taking over your training and probationary period of six months. Since you already went through a program with us, we can shorten the probationary to a month. If you know Rohan, you'd know he doesn't take on just anyone. You completed your course coming in top of your class but you don't know if you're good until you've completed _his_ course and come out in the top three. Which you did.

Quinn studied his hands, the calluses and scars. "I've obviously satisfied Mr. Oberoi's standard for excellence. Not just for the physical and mental tests but also the psychological evals. If he's prepared to take me in." He glanced up at Alex. "I accept your job offer. Wherever you decide to put me's fine."

Alex gave a curt nod in response. "As I said, you'll still be under training. Our A class programs are a minimum of one year. The Navy SEALs BUD/S is six months, to give you a comparison and only those who have successfully completed a BUD/s or equivalent course are accepted. You aren't quite there yet. Rohan's task is to bring you up to a B-class program level and with the results you achieved, you'll get there with no trouble.

"My wanting you to be at KnightShade is personal in nature," Alex added. "I don't need to say that I'm concerned about the false report of your death. In my experience, that automatically sends a message that something is going down. It can be for good or bad but whichever it is, it's to cover up something. I'd rather you stay under the cover of KnightShade while you find out why your ex-employer wants you dead."

"My ex-employer?"

"I'd told you earlier your dossier was compiled from various sources. One of them was the CIA."

"And? Did they confirm it?"

"They were the ones who put it out." Alex turned to the window, looking out at the scene below, hands deep in his pockets. "Which is why no one is to know you are my son nor that you are here in KnightShade. If you agree, I'm proposing that we keep the news of our relationship under wraps for now. If we think publicizing it will help us get the answers, we'll get the media on it. What do you think?"

Surprised his opinion was even sought, Quinn nodded. "Exactly my thoughts, sir."

Alex smiled. "Good! Oh, and there are no ‘sirs' in this organization. We are all on first-name basis though there are still diehards who insist on calling me Mr. Knight. I think they do that when I've offended them and am too obtuse to have noticed. Call me Alex, if you like. I suppose ‘Dad' would be too soon and ‘Father' sounds positively ghastly. You can start on Monday, can't you?"

"Yes," Quinn replied. "But I would like to request that you make an exception in my case and allow me to address you as ‘sir'."

"I'm afraid not, Quinn. If the other employees hear you call me ‘sir', they will notice and start speculating.:

"Rohan 'sir'd' you."

"And Mr. Oberoi is asking for a kick in the ass. Once we can make our relationship public, you can sir me, if you must. I suppose I could grant a concession and let you ‘sir' me in private or in the company of M31.

"What's M31?"

"Ah, that you will know soon. So I shall expect you here Monday morning. What are your plans for the weekend?"

 "I need to go back to San Francisco to pack then arrange to put my house on the market for a tenant. I'll stay at a motel until I find an apartment."

"Bridget will take care of all that for you." Seeing Quinn's hesitation, he added, "how about you go home to pack your things then head back here tomorrow and have dinner with me? You can stay with me for the time being. KnightShade has a department that handles all the accommodation needs of the company. They will handle the renting out of your apartment for you. I'd like to brief you on the organization and the team of people you will be working and living with -"

"Living with?" Quinn asked.

"I'll explain that when you return tomorrow. I'd like you to hit the ground running, Quinn. Rohan is going to expect that from you."

"I expect that of myself, sir."

"Alex."

"We're alone." Quinn countered.

Alex gave what sounded to Quinn like a long-suffering sigh. "Go on, then. See Bridget on your way out and explain the situation to her."

Alex took his cell phone out and tabbed a speed dial button. "Anthony. Dinner tonight? Eight? Wonderful. Pick me up. I don't feel like driving."

Quinn was just telling Bridget what he needed when Alex poked his head out of his office. "Where the hell is Jax? I've been trying to reach him."

"I believe right this moment," Bridget checked her watch. "He should be on his way back from dinner since it's eleven p.m. in Kabul. He is expected back by the weekend though which day, specifically, depends on when he's accomplished what he went there to do."

Alex grunted. "Give Quinn my address and contact numbers and tell Charles to prepare a room for him. He'll be staying with me for now."

"Certainly, Alex." Bridget turned back to Quinn. "Mr. Masterson-"

"Quinn," he smiled.

"Quinn," Bridget beamed at him. "Give me a few minutes to make the necessary calls and I'll come back to you. Baxter, in the meantime, will bring you a pot of coffee and some finger food if you would like to wait in Alex's office. Of course you can sit out here, if you like." She turned to Baxter who was already getting up.

"I've got it, Bridget. "Baxter said. "Hazelnut-vanilla capuccino and cucumber sandwiches?" Baxter gave the six-foot four man a once-over then decided, "better make that a pot of regular black, strong. And profiteroles stuffed with medium-rare thinly-sliced roast beef served with a choice of hot English mustard or horseradish." Baxter wriggled his tight little ass out of his cubicle. "Be right back, Quinn." He flashed his CEO's mystery son a brilliant smile, already giddy with anticipation about the inevitable scuttlebutt.

"Would a noon flight back here be alright with you?" Bridget asked Quinn a few phone calls later.

"Thanks but no need. I'll ride up again."

"Alright. Now, regarding the leasing of your home. I have another suggestion you might want to consider. Shall I arrange for it to be maintained rather than lease it out? Mr. Knight has several properties around the world and we have our own property division which takes care of everything from legal to food deliveries. We'll just send in a regular cleaning crew to keep it dust-free and ensure the utilities are in working order so you'll be able to return any time you wish."

"Wow. That would be great." Quinn smiled. "Thank you. Let's go with that. You'll have to let me know about the cost, though. I'm not sure -"

"It's part of the employee benefits. All M31 operatives' homes are maintained by the company," Bridget said, cutting in. "For security reasons."

"What time does Alex expect me back by?"

"He dines at eight."

"I should be La Jolla by seven."


	13. PART TWO - Chapter  12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn is adjusting to having a father who runs the world's largest PMC just when he's decided he's not cut out for this dangerous work. Alex isn't faring all that better and wants to make a good impression. In his mind, he's hoping he'll have the help of Jax and his M31 boys whom Alex regards as family...but we've got to get through a few hoops before that happens. Problem is, Alex doesn't know that.
> 
> The two men get to know one another and everything’s going well...until Alex flies off to Washington DC. Quinn checks out San Diego and ends up somewhere he shouldn’t have gone in the first place. (I think the guy’s jinxed)

_ Same day; San Francisco _

 Quinn took a final look at his home, as if he wouldn't be returning. He hadn't had it for long but he'd gotten attached to it though if he'd joined Sam's company, it would have meant giving up the house and moving to Michigan where Artistree was based. As he packed, he wondered if there would ever come a time when he could grow some roots. Maybe even have a dog or two. After ten years of living out of duffel bags and getting shot at (sometimes), a dull suburban life was beginning to look good.

Like many bachelors who traveled frequently, his house was rather spartan. The only personal items being his books. No photographs, no objets d'art that might reveal the places he'd been to. But it had been home to him. He wasn't a man who needed much, obviously. What _did_ he need, Quinn wondered. Maybe one of these days, he'd know.

He'd lived in San Francisco since moving from Michigan where he'd lived down a few streets from his parents after he graduated but had never had the time to explore the southern part of his new home state until that trip down the Baja last week. This time, he'd take the chance to stop and smell the roses on the way to San Diego. Which was kind of a pun seeing as he was seriously thinking of returning to the landscaping/horticulture business. Or more accurately, the tree house building business. He wondered what his biological father, the head of the world's largest PMC would think of having a son who was a spook, a glorified gardener and an architect for monkey houses all rolled into one. Whatever he thought, Quinn hoped his father would lend KnightShade's resources to help him find Dante - and keep him alive until he got his friend back.

He grabbed a quick dinner on the way home at Charlie's round the corner from his house. He watched some TV, though all he did was try to remember what had happened six months ago. Nothing came and frustrated, he went to bed. At six the next morning, he packed a couple of tee-shirts, a button-down and a clean pair of jeans. At ten a.m. exactly, his Harley roared down the Interstate 101 into L.A. Eight hours and fifty-seven minutes later, he turned into the gates of his father's house in La Jolla Shores Lane, San Diego.

 

_6.57pm;_

_Alex Knight's home_

A man was already waiting at the front steps of the front porch of the Knight mansion. _A freakin' butler._ Quinn expected the man to execute a bow but Charles merely inclined his head  as he greeted Quinn, introduced himself and said he would get Quinn's bags up to his room. Alex, Charles told him, was on the terrace. If Master Quinn would just walk straight in, past the koi pond, he would easily find Mr. Knight.

Quinn kept a straight face and walked straight ahead, through an inner courtyard with a koi pond filled with the bright buttercup yellow species. There, on the terrace with the endless Pacific once again stretching into the horizon, Alex Knight relaxed on the lounge bed reading a book. He turned as Quinn approached.

"Quinn." Alex put his book down and took off his horn-rimmed spectacles. "Thank you for calling ahead. Charles is impressed. Not even our guests are that considerate."

"It was nothing." Quinn responded. When he'd reached Dana Point, he'd called to let Alex know he'd be there on time. To him, it was a natural thing to do. "Thank you for having me here." Quinn stood a little to the side, suddenly unsure whether he should be there at all. He'd had a nightmare last night and never went back to sleep until close to four.

"Have a seat, son." Alex said as the younger man approached.

 _Son._ It sounded strange from a man other than Sam Masterson. Charles emerged, bringing a bottle of Evian and a glass of ice. He told them dinner would be served at eight and moved away as silently as he appeared.

"Uhh, I brought some clothes...stuff I need for the next week or so. My other bike's arriving on Monday. It's alright if I keep it here until I get my own place? Bridget said she'd line up a few viewings for Monday."

"Quinn." Alex faced him squarely. "Let's get one thing straight. You're my son. This," he gave his surroundings a sweep with his hand, "is also your home."

"Thank you." Quinn sat down and picked up the bottle of Evian. He eyed the glass of ice.

"I personally prefer my water straight from the bottle," Alex smiled. "My beer, too."

Some of the tension eased off Quinn's shoulders and he put the bottle to his lips.

"Well," Uncertainty, not a frequent state of mind for Alex, had him hesitating. "I confess I've never had this experience before so if I move too fast or too slow, it'll be due to trying too hard."

"I'm just as unsure as you are." Quinn smiled. "Where do we start? I mean we did six months ago but yeah, it's different now."

"Yes." _Because now you're ready to be my son._ "Let's see what I've concluded after six months. I've read your file three times. Seen your home. It's neat, clean and tasteful. You're not into designer wear, don't frequent clubs or casinos. You have a couple of friends but these have moved some distance away since they married. You tend to keep to yourself though your neighbors find you friendly. You're not in debt because you have a very strange habit of paying all your bills on time. Dated casually over the years but never had someone you saw on a regular basis. You had a pickup but sold it and bought the Harley Road King Classic four years ago. You also have a UTE and a Ducati Multistrada 1100S but you rode in your Harley. You bought your single-story home five years ago without going for a loan. Your most prized possessions, apart from the motorcycles are your books, many of which are dog-eared and have sticky notes on the pages. The only vice you appear to have is letting your lemons rot on the ground instead of letting your neighbors have them and hanging up your laundry in the nude. In other words, you're a man content with what he has materially."

Quinn cleared his throat after Alex finished. "Sir," he began. "You've offered me a job - which I've accepted. You've invited me to your home to stay - and I'm here...and I have to admit I am a little startled to find Alexander T. Knight is my biological father. Sam Masterson was my father from the time I was four, sir."

Alex gave a nod and leaned his forearms on his thighs, looking up into his son's face. "I don't intend to replace Sam and I'm not expecting you and I to become best buddies overnight either. If you decide you want to disassociate yourself from me, I understand though -"

"Sorry." Quinn interrupted him. "I'm sorry. I was...rude."

Alex studied him silently for a moment. "I think we both have had a bit of a shock. How about we give each other the time to get used to it. We're not in a hurry, are we? Let's just see where this takes us, shall we? If at the end of whatever time, you decide I'm an insufferable asshole or I decide you're a worthless wimp - or both - we can forget we ever read your mother's letters."

Quinn waited a few beats. "The voice of reason." He smiled then and held out his hand. Alex gripped it.

They drank in leisurely silence punctuated by a question here and there. Alex silently examined his emotions, something he wasn't used to doing, and had done again last night, sleep escaping him until near dawn. It had left him rather out of sorts.

He was miffed that Lillian had not contacted him earlier, then angry with himself that he was incommunicado much of those years and resulting in a son who didn't know him. Yet it had been his choice to be a Special Forces soldier with its sacrifices and his choice to spend that weekend with Lillian. He was also thrilled to have a son and more terrified than he'd been as a nineteen year-old landing in Vietnam in 1969.

He could hide his fear from Quinn and everyone else but Alex knew better than to think he could hide it from his butler. As if he had been summoned, Charles appeared. "Mr. Knight, Senator Huntington is on the phone."

Alex excused himself to take the call inside. Quinn decided to go take a shower while Alex was on the phone and Charles showed him up to his room. About twenty minutes later, he returned to the terrace, freshened up and wearing a pale blue button-down with a fresh pair of light blue jeans. Alex told him he needed to leave for Washington DC after dinner and would be back Sunday night.

"Make yourself at home, please," Alex said. "Are you familiar with San Diego?"

"No, not really." Quinn replied. "Just driven through. Stayed a night at the Holiday Inn. That's about it."

"Then take the next two days to get acquainted with it."

* * * * *

Despite the earlier awkwardness, the two men settled down to a comfortable evening where Alex gave his son first-hand accounts of some of his missions and those of KnightShade - those that were declassified, of course. In turn, Quinn filled in the gaps concerning his mother.

"Mom, in case you didn't know, was a very independent, fiery, vivacious woman," he said. "She was very much in love with Sam and he with her from as far back as the first time I met him. I'll never forget the day Batman, cape and all, arrived to take me to a friend's birthday party. He'd brought a Robin suit for me and stayed with me throughout the entire party entertaining the kids with our ‘adventures' which he made up on the spot.

"Everyone called me ‘Robin' after that and years later, Sam still called me that every now and then." Quinn's tone was wistful. After a pause, he said, "May I ask you a highly personal question?

"Please do." Alex smiled.

"Didn't you guys - my mother and you - use protection?" Quinn asked. "You guys were in _Africa._ "

"We did." Alex replied. "I'm not certain, I can only guess what happened." He shrugged. "The condom broke, perhaps. Which one I can't even begin to guess. We were together the entire weekend. We used up a lot of con —"

"That's okay." Quinn halted Alex. "I get the picture." He relaxed back against his seat. "I'm just curious. I wasn't chastising you."

Alex nodded. "I did like her very much, Quinn, but it was one of those times where none of us could make any plans. As soon as the weekend was over, I was shipped out and didn't know my destination until I was on board the plane. Lillian knew what I did for a living, knew I had no place for a wife and kids.'

"Alex." Quinn's voice quiet. "I'm not one of those bastards - and I mean that in every way - banging on your front door demanding that you do right by me or some shit like that. I have a home, relatives from Sam's side whom I get along with and I have shares in a landscaping business started by Sam. Whatever Mom thought she might owe me by not trying to find you earlier, she repaid it by marrying a man who loved her and was good to the both of us. I loved my stepfather. So there's no traumatic childhood for me to whine about to make you feel guilty."

Alex gave him another nod. "Thank you." He waited a beat. "How did your stepfather die?"

"Hit-and-run. I was 22 then. He was 55. I had come to stay the weekend and we went to the video shop to get some movies. Sam stayed at the wheel while I hopped into the store. I heard the crash and ran out, like everyone else." He paused. "The other driver died on impact. Sam died in my arms. His last words were, ‘Tell your mom I love her' and then to me he said,‘Robin, love is good no matter where you find it'."

The subdued mood lasted throughout dinner and at ten-thirty, Alex left for the airport where his private jet would fly him to DC. Quinn returned to his bedroom, pondering over how easily he'd gotten used to having a father again. Maybe he was just an easy-going guy all round or, like Golden Labradors, had no discrimination when it came to making friends.

Quinn spent the next day sight-seeing and having lunch on Coronado Island. In all, things were turning out better than he expected except for one - he'd been taking a stroll past the Hotel del Coronado when a team of SEALs ran past. He'd found himself admiring their physiques, the toned muscles, the six-packs, and wondering what they'd think of his. Was that just vanity or worse? Likely worse because he'd found himself hardening and that one thing that he'd been trying to bury all these years came crawling up his gut. Again.

And that was how, later that evening, he found himself having dinner and chatting with his waiter, Andres, who recommended a few bars and clubs. Gay clubs.

"Winding Road just a couple of blocks up is great," Andres told Quinn. "Small and cozy if you're on a first date. Or, if you're alone and in the mood to people-watch, try The  a few doors down from Winding Road. My partner and I go there on my days off. Lots of eye-candy and my Mike is as sweet as you can find." He made a kissing gesture with his five fingers. "That's where we first met. Talking about sweet, you want dessert with your coffee?"

"No, just the check, thanks."

Quinn paid, leaving a nice tip for Andres and made his way towards The Southern Hole, not even stopping to ask himself why.

 

_ Friday night at The Southern Hole _

The Southern Hole contained had more men than women, as was to be expected. Quinn took a seat at the bar when its occupant vacated it. He ordered a beer and turned around to do what he came to do - people-watch. It was crowded, as was expected on a weekend, and raised voices and laughter competed with the music from a disc jockey. A couple of booths at the back were unoccupied as it was still early but other than that, The Southern Hole obviously did good business on Friday night.

Three men arrived and made their way through the crowd to one of the empty booths, passing by close enough for Quinn to notice the good-looking man whose body language spoke of someone used to being in charge - even when he was walking behind the other two. The man looked around, as if sensing he was being watched and wanted to know who his watcher was. Quinn snorted. Half the room was looking at him, both men and women. Yeah, the man was that fucking gorgeous even with that scowl on his face. _What happened to piss you off?_ Those blue eyes met Quinn's emerald ones across the crowded room and Quinn looked away quickly. He was just looking. He wasn't interested in anything more. Not yet. He had too many things to deal with right now and confronting _this_ issue was not on the top of the list.

The surly-faced stranger gave him a small nod and a two-finger salute as he turned and followed his two friends to the booth. A sudden wash of déjà vu hit Quinn like a two-ton truck and he grabbed the bar counter to steady himself. Whoa. What the hell was that? He didn't know the man, never met him before yet there was something familiar about him, as if he'd met him somewhere before.

The two men accompanying the stranger reminded Quinn of the Navy SEALs he'd seen this morning. Or perhaps they were just male models or fitness trainers, judging by their physiques. Though he'd always been fit, Quinn had the kind of upper-body mass that would descend into a beer gut by the time he hit 50 if he wasn't careful. Right now, he was in top shape. He knew that. His hard-earned muscle groups, clearly visible under his shirt, had made a lot of heads turn when he'd entered the club. The other man, though, he had the body of an Olympic swimmer. Leanly-muscled, powerful shoulders and limbs. Startling blue eyes. And oh man, those dimples.

He exchanged a few more looks with the buff stranger but never allowed his gaze to linger. Wouldn't want to send the wrong signals. Not realizing it was already too late. In a club like this, just one heated look was all you needed to give. Quinn didn't know he practically had smoke coming out of his ears.

The man sitting next to him tilted his beer mug at Quinn's chest. "Nice. Bet ya have a great set of six-packs, I wouldn't mind running my hands over ‘em."

Quinn choked on his beer. "Whutt?"

"Name's Ron." The twenty-something stuck out his hand. "You agree, Larry?" he asked his companion on his other side. "This is Larry. You new here?"

"Nice to meet you, Ron. Larry." Quinn shook the proffered hand and nodded at Larry. "I'm Steve," he said, giving the first name that popped out into his mind. "And yeah, I'm new." He deliberately left it sounding like he meant the bar and not San Diego.

They chattered a bit more until Tony, the bartender, stopped by. "You hustling my customers, Ron?"

Ron protested indignantly and called for another round of beers for them. "And put it on my tab, fucker."

Tony chuckled in response and went to get the order. An hour and a few more beers later, Quinn was about to call it a night but Ron insisted he stay awhile more.

"Sorry, I have an early morning appointment." It was a lie but Quinn had sensed Ron and his friend were angling for something more than just a drink buddy for the evening and he wasn't going there.

Ron continued to persuade Quinn, causing the latter to wonder whether there was any special etiquette in gay bars. Was there a special signal to tell a guy to back off and one to say ‘Hit on Me' or ‘I'm Game'?

"Thanks but no thanks, Ron." Quinn said firmly. Maybe coming in here wasn't such a good idea.

"Why not?" Ron slurred. "It's not as if I'm butt-ugly."

No, he wasn't but Quinn wasn't about to say so. With his own buff body, Ron very likely never got turned down. He told Quinn he lived in La Jolla ."Uptown, baby." Quinn tried to look impressed. Ron leaned close enough to touch Quinn's earlobe. Quinn flinched away.

 "Come on back to my place, then." Ron said after Quinn's second refusal to stay. "I'll show you my Harley collection." Ron said as Quinn started to finish off his beer. He put a hand on Quinn's thigh and squeezed.

Quinn sputtered and  jerked away, causing both of them to spill their beer on him. His shirt was drenched and his jeans weren't much better.

"Oh fuck, Larry. Look what I did to Steve baby here." Ron apologized and making a show of calling for more napkins and started patting Quinn down.

Quinn moved the patting hands away and got off his seat. "I'm going to clean up. Thanks for the beer. I'll see you around." He hurried off towards the bathroom.

 "Asshole." Ron muttered to his companion. "Who the hell does he think he is turning me down like that?"

"Looks like he needs to be taught a lesson," Larry said.

"Yeah, but my old man threatened to cut me off if I end up arrested for DUI again."

"We don't have to do anything," Larry said. "See those guys over there? I know them."

Ron looked over to see who Larry meant. "Fuck. Isn't that the Theron guy? Seen him around here."

"Yep. And I saw him looking our way several times. Guess who caught his eye? Wasn't us, in case you're too plastered to know."

"I noticed and I'm not that drunk. He wants a piece of that asshole." He jerked his head towards the direction of the bathroom. "So what? He's not gonna get any either."

"You sure about that? I heard he plays pretty rough - and he gets pretty nasty when he's had a bad day. _And_ from the look of his face, he hasn't had a good _week_."

"So what are you thinking?" Ron asked slowly enunciating each word.

"I'm thinking we arrange for our stuck-up friend back there," Larry indicated the back of the club with a tilt of his head "to get his sweet ass-cherry popped by the nastiest sonofabitch this side of town."

Ron looked at his friend and laughed. "I _like_ the way you think."

 


	14. PART TWO - Chapter  13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Quinn will say after the "incident" at The Southern Hole, all he needs to do is stay away from Coronado Beach and gay bars.
> 
> Quinn meets Jax, Nick and Staz for the first time but he doesn't know who they are. Neither do they know who he is. all Jax knows is that he's wound up tight and needs release fast and they're in a gay bar known for its anonymous hook-ups. Perfect.
> 
> Bio-Daddy, meanwhile, is clueless as to what's been happening while he was in DC.
> 
> WARNING: Not a promising start for our M31 boys I'm afraid, though Staz can be excused.

"Where's your man?" Jax asked Nick, stretching out his long legs under the table. He'd gotten in before noon, caught a good six hours sleep before getting up for dinner but in truth, he could have slept for three days straight after that goat-fuck in Afghanistan. At least, he'd managed to get home two days earlier than expected so that was something.

"He'll be here soon." Nick replied. "Just sent me a text message. He'll be about thirty minutes." Nick had persuaded Staz and Jax to come along while he met with Soliano, his informant. He'd expected Soliano to be here like he said but they'd been waiting over half an hour and he was getting as antsy as the other two men.

A man came up to them just as Staz called the service guy for another round. "Hey, the guy that was sitting with me and my friend," the stranger said to Jax. "He told me he's waiting for you in the back."

Jax ignored him.

"Who?" Staz asked.

"Steve, the guy who asked me to pass the message."

"Why are you playing messenger?" Jax asked, still slouched down on the seat.

"New in town." Ron tilted his head towards where Quinn was sitting earlier. "A bit wet around the ears. But he's asking for something a little less vanilla."

"Really." Jax drawled. He'd noticed the man, of course. Tall. As tall as himself. Well-built and fucking gorgeous with thick dark hair cut short but long enough at the top for gripping. Also looking very out-of-place in _this_ joint. "How much less vanilla?"

"He's into RPG. Rape fantasies. Gangbang but there's only three of you. He's into anything he can get tonight. But if you're interested, you gotta hurry. Said he was leaving for greener pastures if he didn't get hooked up soon."

"How come you and your friend aren't the ones doing him?" Staz asked, eyeing Ron suspiciously.

"Coz we gotta go. Something came up. Hey, look. Just letting you know the guy's yours if you want him."

Jax slid out of his seat unhurriedly. He was still wound up from the last assignment and the adrenalin was still humming in his veins. This offer of some rough play was just what he needed. If that didn't satisfy, he could always tell Nick to meet him at the Web. Oh yeah, he was still fucking Nicky incognito. He'd meant to break it off a year ago but the guy was just too addictive. The rest of them were already fucking each other. Had been for some years. Staz was the only one who abstained. He'd see what the newbie could do. If he turned out to be a waste of time, he hoped his men were ready for some real action.

 "No, Boss. You're not." Staz took Jax's arm when the latter started to get up.

Jax grinned at him. "Got thirty minutes before Soliano turns up. Thirty minutes is plenty."

"Aw c'mon." Staz pleaded. "It's a fuckin' toilet, man! That's gross. You can't fuck someone in a john."

Jax looked Nick. "How did he get this way?"

Nick shrugged. "Coz he's straight?" He threw Staz a sidelong look. "Or so he thinks."

"Watch it, you...twink." Staz sputtered and shoved Nick hard enough to push him off the seat and onto the floor. The ensuing squabble was inevitable and Jax took the opportunity to go to the back of the club.  It had been weeks since he got some and he was in the mood for rough. "You coming, Nick?" he threw over his shoulder. He didn't bother to see if Nick followed.

* * * * *

Jax pushed the door to the gents' open and sauntered in.

Quinn was at the sink, bare-chested and scowling. A cubicle door opened and a guy came out, washed his hands and left. He looked up as someone entered. It was _Blue Eyes._ And one of his buddies.

Quinn recognized the looks they were giving him. His eyes went from one man to the other. "Go find someone else to hassle, okay?"

Neither replied. Just as blue eyes reached out, Quinn ducked and swung his wet shirt. It smacked its target in the head, sending droplets of watered beer in every direction. Blue eyes  gave a low chuckle and wiped the watery beer off his hair and cheek. "Want it rough, do you?"

He reached for Quinn but a swift, bone-shattering kick to his shin sent him sprawled on his ass. Shocked, he shook his head. _How the hell -?_ He looked at Nick who was staring open-mouthed. No one but nobody could move that fast much less give that kick. He'd only seen the M31 operatives able to do that because of their enhancements. Who _was_ this guy?

 Jax got up, wiping the seat of his pants. It was a rare day that he got bested in a scuffle. He couldn't help smiling. This evening was turning out to be interesting. "Where did you learn those moves, Steve?"

"Look fellas," Quinn said, moving towards the door. I'm tired, I stink of beer and I need to get home so why don't you leave so I can finish rinsing out my shirt and call a cab?" He'd ridden his Harley but the less these lowlifes knew, the better.

Then he made a mistake. He pushed past Jax and Nick.

* * * * *

Before Quinn knew what was happening, he found himself slammed against the sink and bent over by a pair of steel-hard arms. Jax's warm breath hissed against his ear. "I gotta say you surprised me. I wasn't expecting you to want it _this_ rough. But I'm not complaining though my leg's going to hurt like hell tomorrow." He licked Quinn's ear and the man's struggle to free himself only made Jax chuckle and harden even more.

Quinn struggled and almost dislodged himself from Jax's arm lock.

"Fuck, you're stronger that I thought." Jax chuckled. _Actually, this guy was stronger than the ordinary man_. A thought flickered through him. "Delta?"

"Fuck off!" Quinn tried to shake Jax off but it was like trying to dislodge a bull.

"SEAL?"

"Get the fuck off me!" Quinn growled, panting.

"Shh! Man, keep it down." Nick shushed him. "Unless you want the whole club coming to watch."

"Let's go to the other toilet, the one for the disabled, round the corner." Jax suggested. "Someone's bound to come in here soon."

Nick bent down and retrieved the knife sheathed in his boot. He passed it to Jax who held it against Quinn's throat.

"Now," he hissed in Quinn's ear. "We're going to walk out of here nice and easy. Nick and I are going to be holding you up like you've just had too much to drink, okay? One squeak out of you and this knife goes into your gut. You got that?" Nick understood the turn-on dangerous sex brought but even he had never actually set up a rape RPG or asked for one when he and his Dom played. Lots of the Web's members did, though. He guessed experiencing the real thing kinda made it lose its appeal. Still, he thought it was a foolhardy thing for this Steve guy to do - out here in a public place. He could have ended up with guys who'd rape him for real and leave him minus a few pieces of his anatomy.

* * * * *

Quinn felt his anger and indignation choking him. After that one surprise kick, they'd overpowered him and shoved him facedown into the sink. A pair of arms locked around him like an iron band and a pair of cuffs was snapped on his wrists. Fear that cramped his gut as another wave of déjà vu hit him. His captor crooned something he was too panicked to hear and he felt hands running over his ass, cupping his groin.

"C'mon, baby. Let's move," Jax said in his ear. "That yours?" He indicated the leather jacket hanging over the next sink.

Quinn nodded numbly.

"Move it, sweet cheeks." Jax grabbed a handful of ass. "Going to fuck you hard and good."

Jax's words brought a rush of heat to Quinn in spite of the non-consensual circumstances. Still reeling from the flashback or whatever the hell it was - twice now, this evening - he shuffled to the door, blue eyes' knife poised at his throat.

"Check if we're clear." Jax told Nick.

Nick opened the door, popped his head out and in. "We're good." He threw the jacket over Quinn's shoulders and flanked him, dragging him to the door.

They hauled Quinn into the larger than usual toilet round the corner and locked the door. The lighting was piss-poor, coming from a wall lamp with a bulb that was the lowest wattage available. Not that it bothered Jax as he slammed Quinn against the wall , Quinn's cheekbone scraping painfully against the rough surface. Quinn felt the blunt edges of Jax's teeth bite into his earlobe then suck it into the heat of his mouth. Unable to help it, his cock hardened despite the circumstances. Did that make him sick or what?.

"Ah." Jax breathed out, plastered himself against the broad back. "This is more like it." He could hardly see the shadowed body properly but so the fuck what. Below them, Nick undid Quinn's jeans and shoved them down then undid Jax's for him as Jax pinned Quinn down. Breathing as hard as the two men, Nick released Jax's cock and sheathed it with a condom he took from his back pocket.

"Hey, Igor." Quinn sneered at Nick. "How much do you get paid to do his dirty work?"

Jax laughed. "A sense of humor. I like that."

"What did he call me?" Nick asked.

"Igor." Jax replied, smiling. "A cliché, Nick. The idiot assistant."

"Really asking for it, aren't you, smart-ass?" Nick spat out.

Jax pressed his face against Quinn's neck and smoothed his palm over the bared buttock, feeling it tighten under his touch. His finger dipped in between the cleft and he heard the sharp intake of breath.

Nick took over the knife, allowing Jax more freedom of movement and kicked his legs wider apart. "Spread-em, Steve."

Quinn heard the soft rustle of a plastic pack and teeth tearing into it. Then thick, hard fingers - _thankfully coated with lube_ \- were pressing into his anus, slipping past the tight ring. He choked on his saliva at the intrusion then felt a hard cock pressing against his bare ass and bit his lip to keep from crying out. The finger thrust in and out of his ass.

Jax hauled Quinn over to the sink, bending him over. "Fuck, you're tight!" Jax ground out against Quinn's neck. He pressed a second finger in and began thrusting both vigorously. Turning his head slightly, he saw Nick sitting on the toilet with the seat flipped down, watching them with a frown.

Jax guided the head of his cock to Quinn's hole, thinking the man wasn't fighting very much at all for someone who'd asked for a rape. He wasn't into RPG himself but he'd watched them at the Web and those got pretty rough. Blood play was sometimes requested, the pain begged for. Steve, however, wasn't struggling or fighting as much as he should to provoke the violence that turned these guys on.

 Jax was expecting to have to almost knock him out or have Nick take him in a stranglehold then fuck him but instead, he seemed to have given in to the attack.

It didn't feel right.

* * * * *

Quinn felt the thick head of his captor's cock trying to push past his anus and couldn't help clenching up. He tried moving aside in a futile bid to avert the intrusion but the hands grasping his hips were like steel traps. His breath broke out in a pain-filled gasp as the ring of his anus was breeched and he sucked in air, his eyes squeezed tight as his rapist began to push in deeper. "No." He didn't want to beg but was close to doing just that. He felt the sting of tears, hating himself for allowing this, for wanting it...for the confusing mix of anger and desire, the nauseating realization that he wanted to kill the bastard penetrating him but also wanting to urge him on. He felt the huge cockhead slip into his anus and he cried out both in shock and lust.

 "Jax, I don't think -" Nick put a hand on Jax's shoulder to stop him when someone banged loudly on the door.

Quinn felt the cock that had just pushed past his ring pause instead of thrusting in as he was expecting. He expelled a harsh breath in relief. Anger and disgust followed quickly.

 "Jax! You in there? Nick?" The pounding continued. "Nick! Fucking hell! Are you in there?"

Nick unlocked the door and opened it about a few inches. "Is Soliano here?"

"He's out there waiting!" Staz growled. "Where's Jax?" He tried poking his head in but Nick pushed him back and stepped out, shutting the door behind him.

"Wait out here." Nick told Staz. "If Jax doesn't come out in ten minutes, go get him. But be careful. Steve has a kick like a mule on Ecstasy." He gave his team-mate a back-handed wave as he sauntered off to meet his informant.

Back inside the toilet, Jax pulled out of the tight sheath. It wasn't easy but his gut told him something was wrong here. "Staz." He called out, tucking his cock back inside his jeans.

"Yo, boss! You comin' out?"

"In a sec." Lowering his voice, Jax said to Quinn, "You're awfully quiet for a guy who enjoys rape fantasies. How about we continue this some other time?" He scooped up the keys to the cuffs Nick had left in the sink and released Quinn.

"Hey, Steve." Jax touched the broad back. Quinn hadn't straightened up but kept his head hanging down over the sink as if he didn't want to see what was in the mirror. His hands gripped the edge of the sink tightly, breaths coming harsh and fast.

Quinn pulled up his jeans and zipped up, keeping his head down, face averted from his rapist.

"Sorry about the interruption." The hand touched his back again. "We can meet up tomorrow night and take it somewhere more conducive, if you like."

"Get out." Quinn hissed out fiercely, still looking down in the sink. He turned on the tap, and washed his face "Just go before I kill you." He hissed angrily.

Jax's eyes narrowed. "Look, Steve -"

Quinn whirled around and grabbed Jax by the collar pulling him till they were nose to nose. "You and your friends might be some kind of military guys. Delta, Marines, SEALs, what-the-fuck-ever. Right now I may not be able to fight all of you off but you hear this, _boy_ \- if you ever step into my space again, I'll cut that cock of yours off and feed it to Igor piece by piece. You _copy_?" He let go of Jax with a hard shove.

Grabbing his jacket, Quinn pulled open the door just as Staz was about to open it from the other side. Staz promptly fell forward and caught himself before he went sprawling. "And the same goes for the rest of your goons." Quinn threw over his shoulder as he walked off.

"What happened?" Staz asked.

"I've got a feeling we've been set up." Jax murmured. It wasn't a flattering thought for men who were considered amongst the world's best covert operatives and Jax knew they'd be red-faced about this for a long time to come. Still, what was a guy like that doing coming to a known gay club where sex up against the wall or over the sink with strangers were de rigueur?

Besides, the guy had a hard-on big enough for Jax to be recalling it for awhile. That huge erection had told Jax all he needed to know yet it was now obvious he _didn't_ know everything about Steve.

Ah, shit. Jax dragged both hands down his face and caught the musky scent of Steve on his fingers. He breathed it in then turned back to the sink to wash it off. What a fuck-up. "Tell Nick I'm calling it a night. You coming or staying?"

"Staying. Somebody's got to make sure that boy doesn't start looking for more trouble." Staz shut the toilet door with a slam after Jax came out. "And you ain't helpin' him, _boss_."

* * * * *

Quinn spent the rest of Saturday swimming and chilling out. His asshole had burned but that subsided, leaving him edgy, angry and humiliated.  Confused, too. He'd been turned-on by the episode last night, that he couldn't deny, but he was also still smarting over the fact that he hadn't done the smart thing - which was to have gotten away. He could have, even with two of them there, but he'd been mesmerized by those blue eyes on a face that was heart-stopping beautiful. Though he was still seething over the - what was it? Half-rape? Blue eyes hadn't gone in all the way and he was just as pissed with himself for his ambivalence in that toilet. He could have tried taking those two down, strong and built as they were. His rabid anger could topped Blue Eyes' arrogance any day. Except he wasn't just angry. He'd been fighting off his own desires. How could he fight the enemy when he was busy fighting with himself?

With a disgusted sigh, he got up from the deck chair and dove into the pool. If any good could come out of that disturbing incident, it would probably be that it was time he confronted the elephant in the room. Then again, it could wait another day. All he needed to do was to stay away from Coronado Beach and gay bars. Nothing to it.

* * * * *

With Alex gone, there was nothing else for Quinn to do except dig up what information he could on KnightShade and the other companies Alex had his fingers in. These proved to be more extensive than Quinn thought and took up most of Sunday. Having had enough of sightseeing, he swam in the pool and checked out Alex's extensive library of books, music and movies. Charles was unobtrusive but always on hand. He decided butlers could always switch to a career in covert ops if they ever got bored of announcing guest arrivals and mealtimes. Quinn never knew the guy was just a few feet away until he appeared right beside him, startling him a couple of times.

Alex returned in the evening and they had dinner together. Quinn was still getting used to the fact that this quiet, elegant man was his father. Powerful, too, in that low-key way, getting things done in that quiet manner much like his butler. Except when he was growing at Bridget.

A sudden and unexpected feeling of uncertainty overcame Quinn. The sense of inadequacy was foreign to him. He'd never been insecure, thanks to Sam's affirming love. Even when he was being disciplined as a child by his step-father, he knew he was loved and in his adolescent years, had possessed a self-confidence many of his peers did not. Now, here he was, an adult who'd faced down some formidable opponents and gotten himself out of some pretty tight situations. And he didn't have a clue how to handle having Alex Knight as his father. One thing was certain, though. He wasn't going to mention what happened at the Southern Hole. He was sure his asshole was still burning with embarrassment and the last thing he wanted was for Alex Knight to think he needed to babysit his son.

Quinn looked out at the dark Pacific, the moonlight rippling over the waves. Soft jazz played in the background. Conversation during dinner focused on his role and responsibilities in KnightShade and a run-down on the key personnel, including a team called M31.

"M31?" Quinn asked. "That's the Andromeda Galaxy."

Alex shrugged. "Wait till you see The Hydra."

"Hydra? The nine-headed monster?" Quinn grinned. "What's that? Some mutant creature that's your mascot?"

"I don't come up with the names. Hekyll and Jekyll do."

"Hekyll and Jekyll?"

"Yes. The cartoon mynah birds, before you ask." Alex said. "Never mind. How did you end up with the Agency?"

"I wanted to join ArtisTree -  Sam's landscaping business. I had this idea of building tree houses for grown-ups or companies, even specialty resorts. I worked part-time at Artistree.

"One day, these guys in suits turn up at uni, waiting for me to finish class and they offered to get me a place at MIT, pay my fees, if I work for them for them. Sam's business was just starting up and money was tight so I didn't want to ask him to pay for my degree. I accepted the Agency's offer and started that day. They just wanted me to do some spook work, go on student exchange programs they organized, mostly in Farsi-speaking countries because I speak the language. Alex lifted his brows in surprise. "I have a knack for languages and learned quite a few." Quinn said by way of explanation. "  Anyway, I told Sam they offered me a job working on analyzing data and that I was taking it. Sam died a year after I graduated from MIT and instead of landscaping I joined the CIA full-time.

"I stayed for seven years then joined a security company, Raven Resources. I'd just left them a few months before you and I met. By then, I was seriously thinking of calling it a day with counter-intelligence work and wanted to go back and make use of my degree before it was too late. I was going to ask my uncle Geoff - he's Sam's brother - whether I could go work full-time in Artistree. Up until then, I had worked on projects as time allowed."

After a minute or so during which he accepted the cigar Alex offered him, Quinn continued. "Anyway," he blew out a puff of the fragrant Cohiba. "That was where I stopped as far as planning my next step. I thought I'd take some R&R then give Uncle Geoff a call." He stopped as if unsure how to continue.

"Where did you go for your R&R?" Alex asked.

"That's the thing. My passport is missing. Whoever beat me up must have taken it because it must have shown I left the country and whoever took it doesn't want it on record." Quinn threw up his hands. "I can't think of any other reason but where I went, I don't know. I can't remember!"

 "Perhaps we can try to trace back what you were doing last. What was your last assignment, for example?

Quinn thought for awhile. "Let's see. I returned from Manila where I'd just handled a kidnap case. The son of one of the wealthy families there. Nothing to tie me back in the US. Well, except for meeting some Americans at a celebration party given by the boys' family." Quinn named them and Alex immediately jumped on one. "John Haslinger?"

"Yes. I don't know him. William Taggart was there, too."

"The televangelist?" Alex filed that away for Jax.

"Yes. Don't know him personally either. Just recognized him from the trademark white suit he was wearing on a billboard advertising his Manila rally. "Anyway, that was my last assignment before flying back to San Francisco. After that, the only notable event would be Arkady Petrovsky's birthday bash. I was invited." He saw Alex's eyebrows lift in query. "Yeah, I got to know him and his family when I was hired to be their bodyguard - my first assignment with Raven Resources. Lived with them for several months until the threat was eliminated."

"Eliminated how?"

"Actually, my first contact with Petrovsky was when he needed protection prior to testifying in court."

"I remember that." Alex nodded. "Were you part of the protection detail?"

"Yes. When the attempt on his life was made, I managed to save his kids."

"That's right. So you were the agent who got shot. Twice in the chest and one bullet in the leg."

"The next time I met Petrovsky was when his kids started reporting that they were being followed and after one kidnap attempt, Petrovsky hired Raven Resources to track down the perps. They were charged and imprisoned and are still there ‘cos there were other charges involved. Like armed robbery and first-degree murder. After that, Petrovsky asked me to stay on because his wife and kids wanted to do some travelling and he preferred that they be accompanied by security. That's it. That's the last thing I remember - the party."

"And when was this party?" Alex asked. "How long ago before I found you?"

"Just before that week of my memory loss. Oh, there's something funny that happened, too, at the party. Not relevant to our discussion here but -" and he recounted to Alex how he walked into Haslinger having sex with someone in the guestroom upstairs while his wife was downstairs. "I think it was another guy but I'm not sure. I tried not to look. But I did recognize Haslinger because he was on the one um, fucking the other person uh, doggy-style, I think. Like I said, I tried not to look too closely, y'know."

"We don't have much to go on at all," Alex said. "But I'll get someone to start digging, anyway. We'll just have to work it one day at a time. At least the most important thing has been achieved - your physical recovery." He paused. "And our meeting. Lillian did a wonderful job raising you."

"Sam, too."

Alex inclined his head. "Definitely Sam, too." He looked at his son, the feeling that filled him was new to Alex. He didn't know how to describe it. He'd expected more of the initial hostility. Coolness, at least. But his son was handling everything so matter-of-factly as if there were no more surprises left for him. Alex hoped that wasn't the case. Like father, like son wasn't something he wished on Quinn. "I'm glad you decided to join us. I was worried...about you. The circumstances in which I found you."

"I know. Thank you, again. I've been trying to figure out what could have happened to me but until I get back my memory, I don't have a clue."

"It could have been a random attack." Alex suggested. "May not be anything to do with your line of work."

"I have thought of that."

"Though that wouldn't explain why your friend took you to the warehouse instead of the hospital."

Quinn recounted his visit to Rico last week and the note that arrived in the mail from Dante post-dated a month ago.

"And this Dante would be Dante Santorelli?" Alex said, more a statement than a question.

"Yes."

"The Dante who called me and told me where I'd find you?"

"Yes."

"The Dante reported killed in the drug bust just after you arrived at KnightShade." Alex murmured, recalling the news segment.

"Yes and there's something else."

"Yes?" Alex waited.

"Rico told me that my handler at the CIA died about six months ago from an accidental poisoning. Since Dante's note warned me about Bradley, he must be connected to what happened to Dante and to me." Quinn concluded. "Even if Bradley's dead, if I can find out who killed Bradley and faked Dante's death, I'd know who was after me, too. Unless, of course, I can find Dante...before they find him."

Alex brain was running all kinds of permutations by now as he listened to Quinn. Taggart had met Quinn in Manila but that was likely coincidental. A CIA operative, killed under suspicious circumstances was also likely tied to Quinn, himself once an operative with the Agency. Then his handler was killed in an accident around the same time Quinn was injured. Quinn had also met Haslinger twice - once in Manila at the same event Taggart was at and the second time at Petrovsky's party.

"And what do you want KnightShade to do?" Alex asked when Quinn was finished.

"Help me find Dante," Quinn said. "Dante's a friend. My closest friend. He was someone I could trust. If you can't help me, or won't for whatever reason, that's fine, too. I'll still take the job but you're forewarned where my focus lies."

"Well, then, you couldn't have asked for help from a better organization. We have the means and the resources to keep a lookout for this Dante." Alex assure Quinn. "And I have the people who can ensure what happened to you last year will never happen again. You're no longer on your own, Quinn."

Quinn nodded.

"But I'd like you to be patient about tracking down Dante. From what we've got, Dante was one of the best operatives around. Someone I'd hire if I could. A man like him won't be easy to locate, even for KnightShade. So I'm asking that you allow things to take their natural course. When an opportunity opens up, we'll be ready. Until then, you work with us like any other operative on staff."

"Of course. I didn't mean I was going to be utilizing KnightShade ops to find him. I just want to know I can count on their help should I need it. And yes, I assure you I will earn my keep."

The two men talked quietly for a bit more and Quinn found himself revealing things he hadn't even told Rico or Dante. Deep things. Philosophical things. Questions that had no answers. He liked this, he found - sitting out there with the lights turned low, the sound of the ocean below them, warmed cognac in their palms. Quinn thought, in spite of everything, he was a lucky bastard, after all. Well, ‘bastard' used figuratively. He was still pissed about the Southern Hole incident, though, but kept that out of the conversation.

Alex listened to his son, his thirty-four year old son, share vignettes about his life, talk about his passion for treehouses and his intention to pursue that dream. By the time they said their goodnights, it was well past midnight but Alex knew just the right person to keep Quinn safe while they discreetly tracked Dante down.


	15. PART TWO – Chapter  14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex is quietly excited for his son to meet his 'adopted sons' - the M31 boys. Naturally, he's hoping that Jax and Quinn will hit it off and become best friends or soulmates.
> 
> Quinn finally meets the M31 boys officially and surprises everyone, especially Jax, earning the latter's respect (and more) as a result.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I wrote story back in 2007-8, the “invisible Harry Potter cloak” was only just reported in science journal articles. There was no video. Now, KnightShade's ‘Hades’ is a reality and there are enough reports in the general media if you want to read up on it.You can find this invisible 'Harry Potter' cloak vids on Youtube, too.

_ Monday,  _

_ Lunch at Delphi Greek Restaurant _

If Alex had a weakness at all - and he considered this a strength, not a weakness -  it was his fondness for the ortikia at the Delphi Greek Restaurant. Those barbecued quails got his mouth watering as nothing else on earth did.

The weekend with Quinn had gone far better than he hoped. He'd held off telling Jax about his new-found son, wanting to see how things went with Quinn first. Having no other family left that he knew of until Quinn came along, Jax and his team had been Alex's surrogate family.

There was nothing he didn't share with Jax, their friendship having gone back years to when Jax had been just a little kid. Nothing except the news about Quinn, however. He'd kept this bit of information from Jax and while he was excited, he, nevertheless, had experienced some moments of doubt as to how Jax would respond.

Still, he couldn't wait to see the look on Jax's face when he told him. He'd debated all morning whether to bring Quinn along to lunch and introduce them at the restaurant but, in the end, had decided he'd break it to Jax privately first. It had suddenly occurred to him that the young man might experience a bit of jealousy. Alex wasn't one to take things for granted so, once again, testing the waters first would be the prudent thing to do.

* * * * *

Jax watched his CEO lick his fingers. "You're in a good mood," he remarked. "What happened while I was away being chased by the Mujahideen?"

Alex bit into the juicy quail's leg and chewed, taking his time to savor the fragrance of the oregano and the smoky flavor of the grilled bird. Only when satisfied his favorite dish was as it should be did he look up and smile at Jax. "You." He paused and took his wine glass. "Are. Looking." The glass was lifted then brought the glass to his lips. "At." Sip. He lifted the glass again and clinked it at Jax's. "A father." Big smile.

"Who? You?" Jax stared. Alex nodded. Jax put his cutlery down. "I was only gone a week."

"My son is thirty-four years old. Just a year younger than you." Alex recounted how he found Quinn and checked him into MediCom as well as the mystery of what happened to him.

"And all this happened one year ago?"

The hurt was there. Subtle, but Alex knew Jax inside out. "It was a personal and private issue. Besides, I needed time to get used to the idea of me being a father." _So do I_ , Jax hissed to himself. "When I met him at the hospital," Alex continued. "He flat-out told me he didn't care if I came back to see him or not. He was only doing what his mother wanted."

"Who is his mother and what does he want?" Jax asked. He sounded a tad petulant but so the fuck what. "Where is he, anyway?"

"Answer to Question One, Lillian and I met in the DRC thirty-three years ago. Brief encounter. Memorable, but brief. We never saw each other again. Answer to Number Two, he came to pass me a letter from Lillian which left me in no doubt about who he is. Answer to Question Three - he's living with me for the moment.

"Fast worker." Jax muttered.

"For the moment, I said. Until he gets his own place."

"Of course." Jax lips tightened. "I assume you've done the necessary tests."

Alex gave a soft laugh. "Naturally. By the way, he has ‘The Mark'."

Jax stilled. The Mark was a birth mark that, it seems, all first-born sons of the Asbedian line had. Alex's original surname was Asbedian until his father, coming to America, anglicized it to Knight - because that was what Asbedian meant in Armenian. The fleur-de-lis-shaped birthmark appeared anywhere along the hipline. Quinn's, Alex was saying, was located above Quinn's groin.

"Same pale rose coloration, too," Alex said.

"It's the real McCoy?" Jax asked, wondering what Alex's son looked like.

"It's almost identical to mine except for the location. Mine is on my hip."

Jax fiddled with his wine glass. A rose-colored fleur-de-lis right above his dick. Damn. He'd like to see that.

"He's accepted my offer to join KnightShade - no, hear me out." Alex took another swallow of the Russian Valley pinot noir. "As I told you, his ex-colleague is missing, reported killed in a drug bust six months ago, but the guy, Dante Santorelli, is very much alive. At least he was a month ago when he mailed a cryptic note to Quinn's friend, asking him to warn Quinn to stay out of sight. Quinn came to ask me for help to find his best friend."

Jax studied his wine glass, the scowl from earlier still clinging to his handsome features. "And you couldn't refuse your newly-discovered son, of course." He didn't look up but started swirling the ruby-red liquid.

"Of course." Alex chuckled softly, finding Jax's jealousy rather amusing. His top operative and founder of M31, KnightShade's covert group, may be thirty-five but in some things, he was no different from an adolescent. "I hope you'll like him."

Jax looked up at that. "What does it matter who likes him or not?"

"The opinion of others regarding my personal life doesn't interest me, you are right. You, however, do not fall in the "others" category."

"Question still stands."

"One would think you were an orphan I picked up from the streets," Alex said, a smile still hovering on his lips. He was, frankly-speaking, chuffed to find out he had a son but that didn't diminish his affection for Jax. "You've had a family - a great one, might I remind you - for thirty-five years. Quinn and I are just starting."

"I repeat. What has this to do with me liking him?" Jax asked. "As long as you do, I'm happy for you."

"Because he's staying with me only for the next few days or so. After that, he'll be living with you."

Jax did a double-take. "Hell, no." He snapped.

Alex lifted a brow.

"N. O." Jax reiterated. "Not happening."

"He trained under Rohan and graduated top of the year."

 _Okay, that was impressive_ , Jax conceded as he flicked another glance at Alex. "Why is he living with me? You've got a house. My apartment's half the size of your mansion."

"You're moving into a house next weekend." Alex countered. "Besides, I've put him in M31." Jax shot a glare at Alex. "Under your care." Alex continued, seemingly oblivious to the younger man's less-than-positive reaction. "He will continue to train under Rohan but I want you to personally take charge of his safety." Jax shook his head, massaging his brow at the same time. "Someone tried to kill him." Alex pressed on. "Someone beat and brutally raped my son and left him for dead." Jax looked up at that. "That someone will come after Quinn if he knows he's alive. That's why his ex-partner went into hiding. If Quinn was just a victim of a regular rape, I wouldn't be troubling you."

Jax muttered something inaudible and raked his fingers through his hair.

"The best way to protect him is to keep him in our sights. We have targets and subjects watched 24/7."

"None of them had to live with me in my house!"

"No, but they did have round-the-clock protection and our operatives lived with them in the safe houses. Your home is the safest place I can put my son." Alex emphasized the last two words. "There are six of you there."

Jax sighed, knowing Alex was right even if playing nanny to the boss' son wasn't what he signed on for. "So when do I meet Junior?"

* * * * *

"Get your guys to meet us at your office now." Alex told Jax as they left the restaurant. "Might as well introduce Quinn to all of you. I'll have someone escort him down in your office."

Back again at KnightShade Comcen, the two men took the hidden elevator to the underground lobby where the vast network of subterranean tunnels led to KnightShade D&T. Dozens of yellow lab coats, instead of the traditional white, mingled with tee-shirts and jeans. Alex and Jax hopped in a lime green buggy and alighted at the appropriate station - M31's offices, three levels below, with its own underground carpark and private elevator up to a helipad.

"Alex! Hi Jax." Baxter came out from around his circular reception counter. "Quinn is on his way. Bridget is escorting him." He beeped open the door to Jax's office with his remote.

"Are the rest of the team here yet?" Jax asked him.

"Yes, they're waiting in your office."

The five team members were gathered around a computer terminal when Alex and Jax entered the room.

"Heya, Boss Number One and Boss Number Two." Nick chirped. The others waved their greetings and dispersed, leaving Hayden alone at the terminal.

"Gentleman," Alex began. "There's someone I want you to meet. He's on his way down." He saw the slight frowns, curiosity clear on their faces. Staz leaned on the wall near the door, arms folded on his chest. Nick was lounging next to him. Adam and Jordan went over to the sofa, still discussing the results of their latest test subject.

 "I'll be introducing you to my son," All heads lifted up as Alex expected. Hayden pushed away from the terminal, spinning around to look at Alex. "Jax will give you the details in due time but for now, Quinn and I only recently knew of each other's existence." Hayden mouthed Quinn's name at Jordan who shrugged in response. "He was in MediCom for six months last year as he was severely injured. After that, he went into training under Rohan. His life may be in danger and I've decided to bring him into M31 where I know he'll be in good hands. When you move into your new home -" he paused to ask Jax, "this weekend?"

"Yes." Jax nodded.

"When you move this weekend, "Alex continued, "Quinn will be moving in with you. I haven't told him this yet but I'll be doing that tonight over dinner. Jax ,you will join us, won't you?" It wasn't a request.

"Of course."

There was a knock on the door. "Ah, that must be Quinn." Alex turned.

Bridget opened the door and Quinn entered. Everyone stood up, smiling and ready to greet their Director-Commander's son.

"Quinn," Alex smiled broadly. "Meet Jax Theron, our Operations Commander.  A very close friend and confidante. Jax, my son. Quinn Masterson-Knight."

"Man, we are so fucked." Staz breathed out. "I'm so outta here," He started edging out of the room.

"Wait for me." Nick muttered and followed him.

Jax just about choked when he saw who walked in. Alex's son was Steve?

"What's going on?" Alex asked, frowning. "Staz? Nick?" Both men halted in their steps. He looked around the room. "Something you guys not telling me?"

Adam, Hayden and Jordan looked at each other then at Jax, wondering what was going on.

"Would you all excuse us?" Jax told his men. "I need to have a private word with Alex and -" he gave a meaningful pause. "Quinn."

The men shuffled out and Alex turned to Jax.

Jax recounted the incident, at the end of which Alex was possibly speechless for the first time.

Quinn even felt sorry for Jax though he gave kudos to the man for taking control without hesitation. He let Jax recount the incident at the Southern Hole then, when Jax was done, added his bit. "When I finally left the club," he told his father, "I saw one of the guys who was talking with me earlier. Larry. He asked if I enjoyed it, what it was like having my ass-cherry popped by the King of Assholes. It was a set up, Alex. Larry and his friend set Jax up to think I had a rape fantasy and wanted him to do the uh, dirty deed."

Alex stared at both men for a few seconds. Then without a single word, he turned on his heels and walked out.

By lunchtime, the whole of KnightShade knew Alexander Tobias Knight was not a happy man but no one knew why. No one except those in Jax's office, that is.

"Should we, uhh, start looking for another job?" Staz murmured when Jax called them back to his office.

Jax ignored him and turned to Quinn. "I apologize for what happened at the Southern Hole. I take sole responsibility for it. Nick," he said to the younger man whose face was now totally devoid of its usual cheeriness. "You will recount the entire incident to the rest of the team then apologize to Quinn, too." Turning back to Quinn, he added, "if _Igor_ misses out anything, fill it in, won't you? Again, the fault was entirely mine and I am sorry.

"Quinn will be under 24/7 protection," he told the rest. "With someone targeting him and his ex-partner, the best way for him to find out who and why would be under the cover of KnightShade."

 

_Later, same day_

_Alex's office_

"So," Alex  said to Jax. "You obviously have your work cut out for you." He didn't have to point out who did the cutting in the first place. "Looks like my idea for Quinn to move in with you and working with the rest of the team - as he should be - is no longer viable."

Jax walked to the window and propped a hip on the narrow ledge, staring out at the ocean. Drawing a deep breath, he turned to face Alex who was seated behind his desk. Jax pushed off the ledge and went up to Alex.

"I'm sorry," he said, quietly. "I screwed up."

"You did." Alex said. "Literally."

It didn't even enter Jax's mind to rationalize that it was a set-up. He knew better, just as Alex did. Set-up or no, he shouldn't even have taken it on. Not in a public place like the Southern Hole. He had special establishments like The Web for that kind of thing.

Alex lifted his eyes from the letter opener he was examining. "I know you, Jax. This whole thing pisses me off, to put it mildly, but...I know you. _You_ wouldn't have raped him. But -" He paused, the ‘but' hanging in the air.

"But you believe Luis would." Jax finished for him.

"Believe it or not, your recognizing that is the only gratifying thing at the moment. Take control of your alter-ego or I'll have you taken off the op and thrown into MediCom until you're de-programmed. I don't think you want that."

Jax nodded. "I've already apologized to Quinn - in front of the team - but he and I need some personal time for me to do it properly. It's also going to take more than words and playing nice to recoup this and that's where I have to wait and let things play out on their own."

"If Quinn is half the man I hope he is, he'll move forward even if he does kick your ass in order to do so," Alex said.  "One encouraging thing I've got here is that while I'm a little leery of Luis d'Aragon, I also know he isn't stupid.  Both of you will tread carefully where Quinn is concerned. Do I have your assurance on that?" When Jax responded with a curt nod, he buzzed Bridget, telling her to get Senator Huntington on the line for him.

Dismissed, Jax returned to M31's quarters. He was expected to be at L7, Laboratory 7, to watch a demo of Hades, the technology that could render things invisible. The prototype some years back was already in use on a limited scale by the military but the completion of Hades meant the technology was now ready for large-scale implementation.

It was now six months since they'd got V-1 back. Enough time for the goods to cool. Time to start putting the word out. But first, he needed to process what happened over the last couple of days - Alex having a son, said son getting raped - well, half-raped, if there was such a thing - in a stupid case of misinformation, now having to persuade said son to move in with him. How the hell was he supposed to accomplish that? Seriously pissed off with himself, he called Hayden's lab to ask for the demo to be postponed to later that afternoon.

It was Adam who'd answered his call, saying Hayden was in the clean room with Jordan. "I'll pass them the message. Can you hold?" Adam was back on the line a couple of minutes later. "Okay, we'll do it at oh five hundred."

"Thanks, pal. I'm going to grab some lunch and take off for awhile."

"Mind some company?" Adam asked. "My afternoon's pretty clear today."

Jax hesitated, not really wanting to answer the inevitable questions but it had been awhile since he and Adam had met up for a meal together. At forty-three, Adam Montgomery was the oldest member of M31 and one of the top trauma surgeons in the country before he joined Theron-Knight Atomics and subsequently, KnightShade.  Most days, he was either at MediCom or down in the research labs, conducting tests on their biomed engineering inventions with the R&D team.

"Sorry, Adam." Jax apologized. "I need some alone-time."

"How about dinner then?"

"Not tonight. Got dinner with Alex." Jax replied.  "And Quinn."

"Ah. I want the nasty details then."

"I know." Jax said wryly and hung up. He told Baxter he'd be out till five and made his way to M31's underground carpark.

* * * * *

At the Cliffhangar Café, he ordered a Classic Turkey on Sourdough and ate it sitting on the lawn, watching the paragliders land and take off from the Gliderport at Torrey Pines.

Jax wasn't a man given to much introspection. His life had been a whirlwind of activity since his teens. While his abduction at the age of seventeen while on vacation with his fellow students had been traumatic, he'd survived the rapes and the beatings. The latter had stopped a couple of months later when his abductor had given him to another druglord as a peace offering. The following twelve months had him living as a Mexican's sex slave until his rescue. That year wasn't nearly as horrific as the press made it out to be but he didn't see any value in telling the public that being the sex slave of a powerful man with mysophobia had its advantages.

Santiago kept him naked and chained but the druglord's fear of dirt and germs meant Jax got to shower every day and stayed with Santiago in the jacuzzi whenever the drug lord took a soak - which was every afternoon when he was home. Santiago fed him at the table as if feeding a pet dog but it was the same food Santiago ate. He was fucked several times a day and given to whoever Santiago wanted to share him with but everyone had to wear a rubber and afterwards, Jax would have to douche himself and open up for Santiago's inspection. After awhile, there were no more beatings and the fucking had long ceased to be rape. He had even come to feel affection for his captor. Stockholm Syndrome or not, it didn't stop him from leaving when the time came. A year following his rescue, he heard that Santiago was killed in an ambush set up by a spec ops unit. He suspected it was led by Alex but the man denied any knowledge of the incident.

After two years of treatment, he was found psychologically fit and accepted into the Army, to his parents' chagrin. They were expecting him to join the family business, like his siblings. Later, he joined the 1st SFOD-D and even managed to finish his degree and a few years later, his degree from Harvard. Life in Delta Force was good in comparison to some poor bastards he'd met in and out of the Army. He knew he was smart. A whizzkid, the press called him. He also knew there was something damaged inside him but knew, too, that he wasn't beyond repair. He knew there was good inside him.

Wasn't there?

He took another swig from the Evian as if it were cheap gin and he a homeless hobo contemplating the universe from his park bench. It was only the last twelve months or so that he'd begun to feel the encroachment of his alter-ego. Started to feel Firebird was taking over his life, his soul. There were aspects of Luis that were also found in Jax - the ability to move easily amongst the elite as well as charm the waiter and the girl at the checkout counter. It wasn't easy to detect when the Firebird's persona and character started becoming more dominant. Jax had first detected it in the Web during a scene with Nick when he'd gotten too rough, the violence almost boiling over, bursting out like some comic character from his alter-ego's clothes. He'd seen the sudden flicker of fear in Nick's eyes and for a moment, he hadn't cared. He had wanted to hurt to Nick. To make him bleed and savor his fear.

Somehow, he'd managed to pull back and free himself from the Firebird's insidious, invisible stranglehold in time. He'd called an end to the scene and the next day, sent Nick a basket of roses with a note apologizing for his momentary lapse, promising it would not happen again. He'd stayed away from Nick and had seen the young man's despondency as he went through their apartment listlessly. Nick had no way of contacting his Dom and Jax had let him suffer in silence. Guilt won out in the end and he'd sent Nick on an assignment with Staz, hoping it would take his mind off the separation. Thankfully, Nick was noticeably more cheerful when he and Staz returned from the assignment.

He had continued meeting Nick twice a week as usual after that hiatus and was confident he'd gotten his alter-ego under control. But it was showing up in other ways. He was getting more callous, colder, more dispassionate and he'd started fucking other guys besides Nick but not giving Nick the same freedom. He'd rationalized it by telling himself Nick had a Staz-shaped hole in his heart, anyway, and Staz wouldn't have let Nick screw around.

Jax shook his head at himself. Sometimes, when the nightmares came too fast and too closely together, he'd asked himself why he didn't eat his Glock and end it once and for all.

When he had to appear in public with a date and she was bent on getting fucked by Jax Theron, he did what was expected and it bothered him that his cock had no discrimination when it came to gender or circumstances. He knew it was all for show but it was becoming real, as the Firebird was becoming real. Too real.

He'd felt him take over that night at The Southern Hole as his cock was buried halfway in Quinn. It was sheer willpower that enabled him to pull out when he sensed  Quinn - or Steve as he knew him, then -  wasn't play-acting. But there was that split moment when it could have gone the other way and he would have done some serious damage to Quinn regardless of how the man had ended up in that situation.

That was what Alex was hinting at. Warning him about. This was his son Jax was handling. Well, Jax seconded that. It was hands-off as far as Quinn Masterson was concerned.

 


	16. PART TWO - Chapter  15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's making up to do and it'll take time but the two men will get over it.
> 
> In this chapter, they're showing Alex that they can be mature adults. Quinn sticking up for Jax has affected the latter more than he's going to let on and will influence his feelings for Quinn from here on. The billionaire operative, used to men and women falling at his feet, seems to have met his match.
> 
> And lost his heart but shh...he doesn't know that yet.

Jax managed to finish his sandwich and tossed the empty Evian bottle into the trashcan. It was fucking weird but meeting Quinn had somehow made him want Quinn to know the real Jax. To like him. Damn. When did he ever care about being liked? He had family and friends who cared deeply about him so why the hell should he care whether Quinn Masterson - or Quinn Knight, whatever he was going to be called now - liked him. The embarrassing truth, however, was that he did. The moment he'd put his hands on the man, smelt his scent, he'd been hooked. He couldn't even explain why. He'd fucked dozens of men but one whiff of Quinn Masterson and everyone else paled in comparison. Even more perplexing, he hadn't even fucked the man. Merely penetrated him a little. Like that counted!

After Alex had left his office following that debacle, Quinn had shown he'd inherited the old man's ability to charm even Staz, the normally wary Cajun. Without overdoing the magnanimous bit, he'd gotten everyone believing he held no grudges. The thing was, Jax believed that, too, but also knew that the new-kid-on-the-block wasn't about to let him off that easily either. He'd seen the glint of challenge in Quinn's eyes and damn if that smile of his wasn't calculated to entice. Whatever game Quinn was playing, Jax, against his better judgment he was sure, wanted to play, too.

Knight Junior might have been genuinely aggrieved by what went down at the Southern Hole but he was definitely intrigued as well. And what he did back in the office amounted to an impressive save of what was, by all accounts, the worst goatfuck Jax had ever been involved in. In fact, the only one that Jax was directly responsible for. He was surprised at Quinn coming to his defense, and doing it matter-of-factly without embellishment. Jax hadn't deserved it but Quinn had done it, nonetheless.

A man like that? Jax would even bottom for.

* * * * *

Dinner was at Alex's home. Quinn sat opposite Jax, observing the man quietly as the dinner conversation flowed smoothly despite how the day had started, despite how they'd met. It was a complex mess alright. Made messier by the fact that he was undeniably attracted to Jax Theron. The man was annoyingly gorgeous from top to toe, with a cock that could drive Quinn insane with pleasure if he let it. He could still feel that cock penetrating him, stretching him.

The KnightShade doctors had given him a rundown of his injuries and the reconstructive surgeries that were required. So yes, he knew it wasn't his first time being anally penetrated but it felt like the first time since he couldn't remember anything.

Listening to the two men talk, answering a few questions directed at him now and then, it was obvious to him that Jax was a man utterly sure of his capabilities. Alex kept the topic light, discussing current world affairs, finance and mutual acquaintances. When he moved onto Jax's latest conquests, the latter was dismissive. That air of confidence. Arrogance, even. As if all he needed to do was look in the direction of a woman and her panties would melt. They hadn't mentioned any men so that night could have been a one-off or men were something Jax tried once in awhile when the mood struck him. Yes, arrogant was the better word.  As if the tables had never been turned on him. As Quinn drained the last of his wine, he decided that was exactly what he'd do to Jax.

He excused himself to use the toilet and when he returned to the table, Alex and Jax had adjourned to the terrace for coffee and cognac. Alex passed the box of Cohibas to Quinn. "I hope that in spite of what transpired between the two of you, you'll be able to resolve it and work together."

"Never crossed my mind I couldn't." Quinn responded. "I'm a professional and I'm sure Jax will be able to be one, too." He looked at Jax giving him a look that unmistakeably challenged as it provoked "Won't you?" he asked him.

"I'll try," Jax replied drily. Not to be outdone, he added, "so we can assume you won't have any objections moving in with me and the team this weekend."

"Moving in?" Quinn's brows drew together. "With you?"

"Yep." Jax smiled, baring his teeth, all intention of repairing the situation forgotten. "All teams live and train together, as I'm sure you know. Now that you're one of us, you live with us."

Hell would freeze over before Quinn walked away from this one. "Of course." Quinn replied, sounding as if it wasn't a surprise or a nasty one at that.

"I was going to tell you that this morning," Alex said to Quinn after a hard glare at Jax. "But I was distracted by an unfortunate and unexpected incident." He added with a pointed look at them. "Afterwards, I didn't think you'd entertain such a thing so I'd been discussing with Jax whether we ought to make an exception under the circumstances and transfer you to some other team. Rohan's, perhaps, and have you move in with his team instead."

Quinn knew he could demand that and get it but it would make him a wuss in front of Jax and that was not happening. His father probably knew that, too, the wily old fox. "I've been looking forward to working with Jax and his men, on the contrary," he said, delighted when that brought Jax's brows snapping together. "To training with Jax's team, I mean. And yes, I am aware that covert teams train and live together unless they're married. Are there any married operatives in M31?"

"Not that I know of," Alex murmured. "Though after this morning, I'm wondering what else there is that I don't know about. We do have married couples in administration departments but not in the same departmental team. However, this marital issue has been raised recently. It seems there are a few operatives who do wish to tie the knot with each other."

"Fraternization is not against the rules?" Quinn asked.

"On the contrary, I think we encourage it," Alex said drily. "Don't we, Jax?"

"Phhtt." Jax spat out a mouthful of wine. After a short fit of coughing and throat-clearing, he apologized. "Sorry." He glared at Alex. "It works better than banning it." He said, somewhat defensively.

"I wasn't disagreeing, Jax." Alex threw Quinn an amused glance. "Just remarking." He turned to Jax and added, "and since it works, there should be no reason for any cases of sexual misconduct, should there?"

"So," Quinn set his snifter of cognac down. Change of subject needed. "Where do you live?" He asked Jax, wondering, at the same time, whether Jax was fucking any of the employees.

"Next door." Jax replied easily, as if Quinn's acquiescence hadn't downright surprised him. "We're living in my apartment in Coronado but moving this Saturday to my new place."

"Next door." Quinn's brows lifted. Just how close was Jax to his father?

"Not right next door." Jax replied. "One house down."

"Jax can give you a tour tomorrow morning." Alex said. "That won't be a problem, will it?" he asked Jax.

"Be delighted to." Jax replied. "I'm sure Quinn won't begrudge me the chance to make up for my lapse in judgment last Friday."

"Don't you worry." Quinn flashed him a grin. "You'll get plenty of chances."

"Good. I'm glad that's settled." Alex threw Jax a look that clearly said ‘don't screw up again'.

"I need to go over the plan with you later, if you have some time," Jax said to Alex, casting a quick glance at Quinn.

"Let's do that now." Alex turned to Quinn. "I heard you're growing moss under your feet."

"It's been over six months of training exercises," Quinn said. "Nothing else. I'd rather not spend another six doing just that. Not when I'm supposed to be part of the team. I don't want a token position. You put me on _his_ team." Quinn jabbed a finger in Jax's direction. "You must have a good reason. So use me. Don't waste all that time and money you've spent on my rehab. If you don't think you can depend on me then throw me back to Rohan."

Jax's gaze flipped between the two men as Alex considered his son's argument. From the reports he'd received and the profile on Quinn, he had a pretty good idea of the man's capabilities but he wasn't a team-player. Lone wolves and mavericks had no place in KnightShade, much less M31. He'd protested vigorously when Alex called him earlier to confirm Quinn's inclusion in the team but knew he Alex was right. If the guy was going to be underfoot day and night to be kept safe, it wouldn't be workable if they had to throw him out of the room every time they needed to discuss something after work hours. Especially if he was going to be living with them.

Once again, as if they had a hotline to each other's mind, Alex sat forward and said to Quinn, "That's why your moving in with the team is so important. How well you live with them will tell us how well you'll work with them. M31 isn't the CIA. We don't have many rules. No Big Brother watching your every move. There isn't a need to, you understand? Whatever's not classified, you don't hide. You know what that means?" Keeping his eyes on Quinn, Alex said, "You tell him, Jax."

"It means that we all know what your toilet habits are, whether you jerked off in the shower today, whether you like anchovies on your pizza or you can only get it up if it's got a pair of balls attached to it." Jax waited for that to sink in. "Despite that, you will remain on a Need To Know status. You've been in the game. You know how a single piece of data can compromise a whole team, destroy years of planning and hard work. And lives." Jax bared his teeth in a grin. "So, do you still want to play in our sandbox?"

Quinn didn't bat an eyelid but returned Jax's smile with one of his own instead. "When you can take _my_ cock up _your_ pretty little ass without squealing like a girl, you get to tell me when and where I can or cannot play. Until then, I've got someone who wants me dead and a friend I need to find while he's still alive. So I'm the one who hasn't got time to waste." He turned to Alex. "So. Am I in for whatever's going down this Friday?" he asked, referring to the discussion he'd overheard between Jax and his father earlier before dinner.

Alex eyed the two men with some amusement. Jax's machismo - not that he'd ever admit he was guilty of that - could do with some rattling. "I'm hosting a cocktail this Friday," Alex began and over the next few minutes, he briefed Quinn on Operation Sirin. While various operatives were brought in on Op Sirin as needed, Jax's undercover ID, The Firebird, was highly-classified and no one except the five men in Jax's team, and Alex, knew Jax and Luis d'Aragon were one and the same. It would have to remain that way until Op Sirin was over.

"So," Alex was saying, "Jax is to throw out the bait and, hopefully, Haslinger will bite."

"Haslinger?" Quinn queried.

"John Haslinger." Alex confirmed. "Of Haslinger, Dexxon and Wayne. The man you ran into at Petrovsky's party. He's on the guest list. We believe he's involved but aren't sure in what capacity." He went over a second time with Quinn about the White Phoenix, Operation Sirin, the setting up of M31 and how it looked like their eight-year silent chase was about to come to a head. The White Phoenix, Quinn learnt, wasn't a person but an organization. Or organism might be a better word.

"How are you going to introduce Quinn?" Jax asked Alex. "As your son?"

"No, I think we should keep that bit of intel to ourselves for now, " Alex replied. "There are too many unknowns where Quinn's concerned and the last thing I want is the media headlights trained on him, alerting his enemies. Let's get Op Sirin in the air then we'll make the appropriate announcements."

Jax nodded. "We believe there are five figures behind the White Phoenix." he told Quinn.  Ivan Zhuravylov, Philip Xu, Shahid Khan and William Taggart, the televangelist. We have not identified the fifth man."

Quinn whistled as he heard the televangelist's name. "Taggart? How is he involved?"

"Taggart Ministries is a front for the White Phoenix. Because it's registered as a religious charity in all the countries it operates in, it's an ideal way to launder the White Phoenix's millions. No audit, no tax."

"How did you zero in on these guys?" Quinn asked.

"The hard way," Jax replied. "Eight years of surveillance clips and hundreds of reports. The usual detective work by our intel guys."

"You can access them any time," Alex said.

"I will, thanks. What exactly does the White Phoenix want?"

"Usual shit," Jax replied.  "World peace' but not Miss Universe's idea of achieving it. The White Phoenix prefers something a little more effective than merely holding summit talks and signing pieces of paper. It goes after specific targets, hard and soft. We failed big time with the Twin Towers. We'd only just started to form M31 even though the men were already in KnightShade. We weren't ready to handle the White Phoenix in 2001 but believe me, we caught up fast. The Eiffel Tower plot was foiled, the plane crash that killed the Chinese premier, we lost that one. The bombing of Petronas Tower in Kuala Lumpur was also averted, the bombing of Joel Osteen's Lakewood Church and the attempt on Osteen's life...the list goes on."

"Whoa." Quinn's cigar froze midway to his lips. "The Eiffel Tower and Petronas were attributed to Al Qaeda, Joel Osteen was the work of some militant atheists and the jury's still out on the Chinese Premier." But Jax merely looked back at him, one eyebrow quirking up. "Okay. So it's the White Phoenix." Quinn conceded with a wry twist of his lips. Lips Jax suddenly had an urge to kiss. He wondered if the man had any idea how good-looking he was. Probably not. Jax wanted to trace his tongue down that straight nose. It had just that right amount of tilt at the tip for the perfect snub, if he wanted to give one. But yes, those lips...

"Go on," Quinn prompted.

It took a moment for Jax to realize Quinn was talking to him. "Yes, I was saying...unlike Al Qaeda, the White Phoenix doesn't want the world to know about its existence. It works covertly through legitimate corporations and government bodies. When the White Phoenix wants to move in on a country or a corporation, it utilizes contractors. Yes, mercenaries. PMCs like us but the smaller, foreign ones that are less scrupulous. It has its own group of Special Forces-type guys, we believe, and it's entirely possible, probably even, that these are working from within our own people."

"You mean KnightShade?"

"God, I bloody hope not!" Alex muttered under his breath.

Jax shook his head. "No, I meant the DoD, government agencies like the CIA, the Feds. We've received chatter that even NCIS has been infiltrated."

"For now we have enough intel to know that their next target is the Philippines," Jax said. "the White Phoenix wants to get rid of Arroyo, dismantle the current administration and replace it with the one it's been secretly grooming."

"Why?"

"They want a government that will allow them to establish a US military presence similar to what we had pre-‘92. Only this time, it will be controlled by the White Phoenix. Why Philippines? It's the only truly US-friendly Asian nation, next to Singapore - which is too small for the White Phoenix's purposes. Once it's established in the Philippines, the White Phoenix will move in on the other countries one by one. Not necessarily a Western face, either. In Indonesia, it plans to infiltrate Islamic groups, wipe out the current militants, come out smelling like roses but actually setting up its own domination through a new Islamic faction. Ditto with Malaysia. Politics and religion would be a new mix and no one would suspect the people behind this new government believe they have God, Allah and Krishna in their pocket."

"Okay, so for this stage of the White Phoenix's plans we're trying to prevent what?" Quinn asked. "A coup in the Philippines?"

"That, and more," Jax said. "Whatever the means employed to bring about the coup, it's bound to involve huge losses in terms of civilian lives. the White Phoenix doesn't care if the nation's destroyed. It just wants a foothold in Asia. It has enough resources to restart the economy, rebuild whatever suits them and have it all in their control. Doesn't matter if millions have to die to clear the way first."

"Do you know what they're likely to target to get to Arroyo?"

"That's where V-1 comes in."

"I take it that's not some kind of vitamin supplement." Quinn said.

Jax smiled. "No, it's not. Six years ago, we placed a shipment of arms on the black market. Each weapon was embedded with a RFID microchip in the material itself. It does not merely track each weapon's movement but records the DNA of everyone who handles the weapon, providing a vital trail that we hope will eventually lead to the White Phoenix. Vulcan-1 or V-1 for short, is its codename." His eyes stayed on Quinn's and he found himself pinned by the other man's emerald gaze. His own moved down to Quinn's lips again. He needed to taste those lips, to feel them open up against his.

"And how close are you to achieving that?" Quinn, asked, breaking into Jax's extraneous thoughts.

"We'll know after this Friday's cocktail." Alex answered. "V-1 was prepared a few years ago to create provenance. We executed a buyback a year ago. Left it to cool. It's ready now to wave under Haslinger's nose. We know they're always on the look-out for the latest weapons apart from the usual staples. We had those and we had our special ones, too."

"He'll be at the cocktail this Friday," Jax said. "If you want to start, that would as good a place as any. Apart from my setting the trap, much of it's just more intel gathering."

"You can come along and observe," Jax said. "We're not expecting anything beyond my throwing out the bait but if something does happen, Nick, Staz and Adam will be there."

"Who are they?" Quinn asked. Before Jax could reply, Charles appeared and told Alex there was a call for him.

"Excuse me, boys." Alex stood. "I need to take this call."


	17. PART TWO – Chapter  16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jax gives Quinn the rundown on the M31 boys as they continue preparations for Operation Sirin.
> 
> The two men are getting sucked in by their mutual attraction even if they're not going to admit it just yet.
> 
> This chapter covers the background to the M31 team and how Jax got them together. If you're an action/sex fan, this chapter may be boring but it does give Quinn important insights into the man who's gotten under his skin and into the men who will eventually end up as his family.

Jax wondered how much to tell Quinn. “Those guys you met in my office this morning, they are members of my team. If you want a hard copy of the data I’ll ask Baxter to send their profiles to you –”

“No.” Quinn cut him off. “I want to know what they are like. I already know what _you’re_ like. I want their personalities, how they interact. And what the house rules are.”

Jax smiled. “Okay. You asked for this. Just remember that and don’t go crying to Daddy when you can’t handle it.”

“It’s going to take a lot more than just threats, Jax. You guys may think you’re some hotshot ops but I’m ex-CIA. I’m used to dealing with assholes so fire away.”

Jax eyes narrowed even as his cock stirred. “You know what? I’ve changed my mind. Instead of telling you what those ‘house rules’ are, I’m going to let us show you, Mr. ex-CIA.”

* * * * *

“So, Quinn,” Alex said, returning after his phone call. “Jax told you about M31?”

“More or less.” Quinn replied. “What’s the occasion for the cocktail?” he asked, changing the subject. Jax’s eyes were still challenging him and Quinn couldn’t help the sexual tension sizzling between them. He would fuck this jerk and he would make him beg for more before the man knew what he was doing.

“There’s a convention for Emerging Markets Private Equity Investors starting Wednesday,” Alex answered. “The cocktail’s to welcome the delegates. I decided to hold it at the end of the conference on Friday evening as most of them would be staying the weekend. Oh, by the way,” Alex said to Jax. “Sasha’s going to be there. I spoke to him this morning.” Alex smiled and cocked an eyebrow at him. “He said he looked forward to seeing you again.”

Quinn looked enquiringly at Jax but the latter ignored the unspoken question. _A lover? Friend? Was Jax gay?_

“I’m going to throw out the bait and wait for Haslinger to bite," Jax said instead. “He's careful, though, so I'm not expecting him to bite straightaway.”

“The White Phoenix’s reach is far more extensive and intricate than we thought,” Alex said to Quinn. “We’d uncover one connection and it would lead to another.”

“Fill me in.” Quinn requested.

“Sure.’ Jax responded. “In the last  three years we’ve been working on Operation Sirin on an indefinite basis. ‘We’ as in Nick, Staz, Adam, Hekyll and Jekyll.”

“Hekyll and Jekyll?” Quinn repeated. “That’s Hayden and Jordan, right?”

“You’ve met them?”

“Yes, when Alex gave me a tour of KnightShade day before yesterday.”

“They’re never apart, day or night,” Jax said. “Look alike, dress alike. No, they aren’t related. Anyway, the White Phoenix - it had become an on-going secret world war. Every US-base and US-friendly nation was now at risk of becoming a target. The only way to prevent this was to apprehend each White Phoenix director. The one we want, other than Haslinger, is Ivan Zhuravylov who we suspect oversees Europe and the Middle-East. Ex-KGB and CIA-trained. Ivan the Terrible, a nickname he more than lives up to, runs a massive illegal arms network and is suspected to have put out the contract on his competitor. The hit failed and launched an all-out war of the illegal arms titans.”

“Soghanalian?” Quinn mulled over the name. “Would’ve thought Luis d’Aragon posed more of a threat.”

Jax tensed. “You know him?” Jax knew they had never met so he was curious what Quinn would have to say about his alter-ego.

“No, just read about him.” Quinn replied. “That he took over from Soghanalian and is the most infamous private arms dealer in the world now. Probably sells arms to Mars if the stories about him are true. Anyway, what am I doing at a function like that when someone asks me?” he asked. “In fact, what’s the rest of the team doing at a cocktail? Personally, I can’t see Staz as the cocktail type, schmoozing his way through the business suits.”

“Nothing complicated,” Alex replied, chuckling at the image Quinn conjured up. “You’re all there as personal friends of mine or representing investors in several of my ventures in Emerging Market countries. And Staz – you’re right. Not cocktail schmoose material. He’s usually someone’s bodyguard. He can be yours this time. It’s our usual cover. Chatter is telling us something’s going down within the next few months, if not weeks. Any little bit of info we pick up at these functions will be analyzed and filed so the more we collect, the better.”

 “You have investments in the Philippines?” Quinn looked at both men.

“I don’t.” Alex replied. “But the Therons do. Leisure and travel. Luxury resorts, that kind of thing. Why?”

“If you did, I could go as your Philippine business manager or something. I could still do that - go as the rep for a Philippine investor,’ Quinn said. “I have several Filipino friends and lived a couple of years there when I was based out of Manila. Familiar, too, with Mindanao.”

“Speak the language?” Jax asked.

“ _Ang hindi magmahal sa sariling wika, daig pa ang hayop at malansang isda._ ”

Alex laughed. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Something obscene, I bet.” Jax muttered.

“It’s a quote from Jose Rizal, their most famous reformer.” Quinn explained. “It’s Tagalog for ‘He who does not love his own language is worse than an animal and smelly fish’.”

“Really. Wow. You surprise.” Jax said. Their eyes met and once again, he saw the unmistakable heat in Quinn’s. Well, Quinn Masterson – or was it Quinn Knight now? – would have to make the next move. He’d promised Alex no more screw-ups where his son was concerned. Charles brought out orange-chocolate soufflés, served the coffee and conversation continued on the topic of KnightShade.

 “How did you guys come to form the team?” Quinn asked, as he licked his spoon clean of the soufflé. “Did you know each other before they joined KnightShade?”

Alex sat back and looked to Jax. “Jax?”

“What?” Jax blinked. He’d been mesmerized by that tongue lapping the spoon as if it were a part of Jax’s anatomy that was getting increasing uncomfortable trapped behind the zipper. Charles handed a cup of coffee to him, giving him time to recover. “The team? Umm. Okay. I’ll start with Jordan.” He took a sip of the hot coffee. “We grew up together, both of us born Boston. We lived a few houses away from the Fletchers. Jordan was my best friend and like best friends, we did everything together. Then Adam came along. He's older than me by 8 years so I hero-worshipped him a little. His father was a good friend of my dad – still is – so Adam spent a lot of time over at my house. Naturally, Jordan felt it was a little too much time so he and Adam settled it the time-honored way. Or rather, they would have if I didn’t find out about the showdown at OK Corral from my sister.

“How old were you guys then?” Quinn asked, chuckling at the image of the two boys in a face-off.

“Jordan was eight. Adam was twenty.”

“Twenty.” Quinn’s brow lifted then he huffed. “He was teasing Jordan.”

“Yeah." Jax chuckled at the memory. "When I got there, Adam’s younger brother, Stefan, who’s the same age as Jordan, was warming up to take Adam’s place.”

“Don't let that harmless side of his deceive you.” Alex warned.  “Pit him against anyone who hurts any of them and watch him go over to the dark side.”

“Sounds like my kinda guy,” Quinn said. “I had a friend like that. Only man I could trust with my life.”

“Dante?” Jax asked, curious about the friendship.

Quinn gave a nod. “Sorry, go on. So you went to stop the fight. How was it resolved in the end?”

“You seen the movie, The Mummy?” Jax asked, his thoughts still on what Quinn had just said. “The one with Brendan Fraser and Rachel Weisz?”

“Yeah. Fun movie, that. What about it?”

“Remember that part where the treasure hunters were fighting with over the discovery of some artifact and Rachel says to them, “Be nice, children. If we want to play, we must learn to share. In that sexy British accent of hers – what?” he stopped as he saw Quinn fighting a smile.

“Uh, nothing. Go on,” Quinn said. Jax remembering movie dialogues? It was weird enough him being this chatty. Even Alex was hiding a smile by taking another sip of his coffee.

“So.” Jax looked at Quinn suspiciously for a moment before deciding to continue. “I didn’t want to have to choose, you know? I liked them both though they’re as different as night and day. Jordan’s a geek and looked like one then. Today he looks like a surfer dude but he's still a nerd inside. And Adam was…exactly as he looks today – elegant, charming and sophisticated, even when he was a young boy. So I invited them over that weekend to sleep up in my tree house. Adam's fun that way. He may have been twenty but he never treated me like a pesky kid and he slept up in that treehouse with me that weekend."

That got Quinn’s attention. His head snapped up. “You had a tree house? Is it still there?”

“No, the tree was struck by lightning and we had to cut it down. It was best birthday present I ever got. Why?”

“Uhh…,” Quinn hesitated then thought ‘what the hell’. “I design tree houses.”

“You do?” Jax asked, intrigued. “Hey. That’s cool.”

“It is?” Quinn asked, disconcerted by the way Jax’s words filled him with a pleasurable warmth.

“Yes. It is.” Again the two pairs of eyes met and held.

Alex cleared his throat, breaking the spell. “You were telling Quinn about Jordan.”

 “Yes, I was, wasn’t I?” Jax responded, keeping his gaze fixed on Quinn. "So Jordan I’ve known since we were in diapers, and came on board M31 before anyone else." Jax continued. "Then Adam joined. He hasn’t changed much. Even in his teens I remember him being suave and sophisticated. Smart, smart guy under the smooth exterior and a heart of gold.”

“Sounds like quite a paragon.”

“Don’t underestimate him. He may go into battle with his surgical scalpel in one hand and his Sig Sauer in the other but he uses both with equal skill. He is an easygoing guy but he’s no pushover and you don’t know snubbed until you’ve been snubbed by Adam Montgomery.

“Now, Staz. I love the guy.” Jax shook his head, smiling. I met him in my teens when I went down to Key West for our annual family vacation. We met up after that every time I was there. He saved a girl from drowning once. Gave her mouth-to-mouth then sent her a bouquet of roses the next day."

“Nice of him,” Quinn remarked.

Jax gave a hoot. “Her being blonde and stacked could have something to do with that.”

“And Nick?” Quinn asked and was sure Jax’s features softened.

“Ah. Nicky baby,” Jax murmured. “Pretty as they come. And more lethal than atropa belladonna.”

 _Deadly Nightshade._ Quinn frowned at the thought there might be something between the two men. If there were, there was no doubt in his mind who did the ass-kissing, the memory of Nick hurrying to do as Jax ordered back at the Southern Hole toilet.

Jax stretched out his legs. On the horizon, a low moon hung over the Pacific. “Nick.” He repeated and drew in a breath. “Staz and I rescued him from some back alley in New Orleans. Staz had invited me back to stay for a few days after our vacation ended. His family ran a seafood business and the best seafood restaurant in Louisiana. They sold the business and the restaurant last year and are now retired. All five of his sisters are married with kids.”

“Five?” Quinn’s jaw dropped. He’d often wished he had brothers but sisters? _Five of them?_

“Yep. Five.” Jax grinned. “You’ll love his family.”

“Sounds like _you_ do,” Quinn said, surprised at the side Jax was revealing. He hadn’t pegged him for a family man.

“Yes, I do, but it’s not me who gets waylaid by the sisters. It’s Nick. They liked dressing him up.”

“What?”

“He was fifteen and getting beaten up when we rescued him. When he was recovering from his injuries and couldn’t run, Staz's sisters put make-up on him, mascara’d his eyelashes, put long-haired wigs on him.”

Thank God he never had sisters, Quinn decided.

“Nick’s always been too cute for his own good,” Alex remarked. “Everyone wants a piece of him,” he told Quinn. “Trouble is, he’s very generous so everyone does get a piece.”

“Except Staz.” Jax chuckled.

“Whom he wants to give to more than anyone else,” Alex added.

“Alright.” Quinn took a breath. “I’m going to have to ask – are you guys gay?”

“I’m not.” Alex replied.

“Does it make any difference to you if we are?” Jax asked.

“No.”

“Good.” Jax pinned his blue eyes on Quinn knowing he was deliberately provoking him. “So...back to Nick. Staz and I were still at university. Classes wouldn’t start till a week later so when Staz invited me to stay and hang out some more, I said “sure”. The first night, we were on our way home after a movie and heard someone screaming in the alley. Now, the smart thing to do would be to walk on, right?”

“But you were wearing your idiot cap that night, like you were on Friday night.” Quinn quipped.

Jax glowered at him. The man was fucking delicious sitting there all long-limbed and relaxed. His gaze went to Quinn’s crotch, wishing he could reveal was what behind that bulge in his jeans just by looking. “So Staz and I,” he carried on smoothly. “We go in the alley, right inside, past the trash and the dumpsters until we get to this group of ten or so guys. Before we get any nearer, Staz whips out his cell phone and calls his uncle who’s the police chief. Yeah, that helps.” He added. “So, these guys are surrounding this scrawny little kid. One guy was fucking him doggy fashion while two others were holding him down. Yep, a gang-bang in progress. Staz tells me when he yells ‘run’, to run. I asked why don’t I just wait outside the alley if all I was going to do was run and he says, ‘would I stay outside if he told me to and my face answered that. So Staz walks right up to them and I’m thinking I’ve become friends with an idiot who’s turned _me_ into an idiot or I wouldn’t be there. Anyway, Staz. You’ve seen him. He’s six-seven now and looks like a body-builder. He was already that tall then. He was, about nineteen, twenty and Nick was a fourteen or fifteen year-old shrimp. Just skin and bones.

“Staz grabs the fucker – yes, that’s literal – hauls him off Nick and chucks him in the dumpster, his pants still around his ankles, dick still hanging out. The rest of the attackers are just standing there stunned. Probably wondering who the hell he was. Then Staz lifts Nick over his shoulder and yells ‘RUN!’.

“I ran. Staz was right behind me. Suddenly, he cursed and I heard him fall. One of the guys had thrown a knife and it was stuck in Staz’s leg. I ran to him just as the gang descended on us and I thought this was it. We were dog food.” He stopped and did not continue.

“What happened, then?” Quinn asked when the silence dragged on.

“I heard the gang said they’d fuck Nick, then Staz.” Jax replied. “Then they’d kill Staz and keep Nick.”

There was another pause. “And?” Quinn asked, wondering about the silences.

“Jax stopped running and turned around.” Alex answered instead, his voice soft and some emotion crossed his features that Quinn couldn’t identify. Sadness, maybe? Pride? “He offered himself in exchange for Nick and Staz.” No one spoke after that. Quinn waited. He was glad when Alex continued while Jax took out another cigar and settled back to stare out at the ocean.

“There was some negotiation going on,” Alex said. “The gang didn’t see why they needed to let any of them go. With Staz injured, they could rape Nick in front of him and then start on Jax, who, they said, had a great-looking ass.” Alex chuckled as if wanting to lighten the mood. “Jax managed to get the gang leader, Flick, I think his name was, to listen to him. He told Flick who he was and how much he and his friends would be worth alive and unharmed. By the time Flick agreed on the price – a hundred grand for Staz and two hundred for Nick - the police cars were screaming down on them.”

“Staz took Nick home. The gang was arrested and charged with assault and rape. Staz’s family took Nick in and basically adopted him. He took private classes to get himself eligible for college. Staz applied to become a SEAL. Nick followed a few years later.

Quinn shook his head in amazement. He didn’t know what to say. He’d never experienced this kind of bond with anyone, much less have a team of them together. He imagined what it would be like to have half a dozen Dantes in his life. And hell, yes, he wanted what Jax had with these guys.

“We’ve been friends a long time,” Jax said.

“So you guys joined KnightShade at the same time?”

“Pretty much,” Jax replied. “Been eight years now we’ve operated as a team.”

“What about Hayden?” Quinn asked. “Did you know him before he joined KnightShade?”

“I didn’t but Jordan had worked with him since MIT days and were best friends. Hayden and Jordan are those super-smart guys. Geeks and nerds. Hayden started work at Theron-Knight Atomics and when M31 was created, we brought him over.” He took a sip of his cognac and another puff of his cigar. “Jordan and Hayden are on Theron-Knight Atomics’ payroll but actually work for M31. We were created specifically to take down the White Phoenix but because there are lull periods, we take on other assignments, mostly training ones and some SAR.”

“And when the White Phoenix is neutralized?”

“Then I’m going to find myself a nice, isolated island paradise and take a long, long break doing nothing but fish and lounge around naked.”

 _Take me with you._ “Well, here’s to paradise.” Quinn lifted his snifter in a toast.


	18. PART TWO – Chapter  17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahh. The First Kiss.
> 
> Last night, Quinn learnt the background of the rest of the team. This morning, he's going to learn something else about this team of guys.
> 
> The stage for Operation Sirin is also being set. The boys are getting antsy. They've waited a long time for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On second thoughts, this story isn't as porny as I thought. Still, better keep the warning tags because of the group sex that'll happen in later chapters.

Quinn walked over to Jax's new house the next morning for the promised tour. Jax was already there when Quinn walked up to the front porch.

"Are all the guys staying with you at Coronado?" he asked Jax.

"Of course."

Quinn wondered at the cool tone and whether Jax was regretting being so chatty last night. He'd initially thought Jax an arrogant, over-confident jerk but last night had revealed a side of him that was surprising, to say the least. He'd seen a boyish quality that was absent at work. That must be it, Quinn thought. Jax was embarrassed that he'd let it all hang out last night.

"Come on in," Jax said, not looking at him. He walked ahead a couple of steps and Quinn couldn't help watching that tight rear. His cock clearly approved, hardening at the thought of Jax's bare ass. The man looked good enough to lick from top to toe and Quinn had no doubt he'd be doing just that - as soon as he got over his ambivalence concerning his sexual orientation. How he'd get there was something he was still working out. In the meantime, no harm just looking.

"Right. Let me give you the sales spiel." Jax bared his teeth. Quinn supposed it was meant to be a smile. "He led Quinn through the spacious lounge which opened out to the terrace and the pool with its semi-circular edge overlooking the ocean. The terrace flanked the pool and deckchairs were lined up among huge potted greens. Other than that, the garden looked like it hadn't been attended to yet, though the lawn looked well-watered and healthy. Efficient sprinkler-system, no doubt.

"You got yourself a landscape guy?" Quinn asked, looking at the bare flower beds covered with wood chips to prevent weeds. "If you haven't, I'd like to pitch for the job."

"You're serious?" Jax looked him curiously. "Alex told me your step-father had a landscaping company and that you're a shareholder."

"Yes, he did and yes, I am. So," Quinn cocked a brow at Jax.

"But you're a spook, aren't you? You're just hiding out at KnightShade until whatever shit you're in clears."

"I was a spook. I've been one all my working life but I also have a Masters in Landscape architecture and yes, I am serious about building treehouses. I also love plants and gardening."

"No shit."

"So, do I get the job? I want to work on it myself."

"You do?" Jax looked nonplussed. "You mean dig in the ground yourself? With a spade? Like a gardener?"

"Yeah. Just like a gardener." Quinn replied blandly.

"So you'll choose the flowers and stuff?"

"Yes. I will choose the flowers and stuff." Quinn rolled his eyes up."

"And _you_ were asking if _my_ guys and _I_ are gay?"

"Hey." Quinn jabbed Jax in the chest. "Just because I appreciate nature doesn't make me gay but if it does, that makes you and your boys Neanderthals. You've still got the trees." He looked around, deftly abandoning the subject of who was gay and who wasn't. "No one cuts them down these days unless they're diseased and in danger of uprooting. But yeah, I plan to get down and dirty if you'll let me."

"Uh huh." Jax grinned. "Well, I don't know much about trees and shrubs except if it can poison me or not so you've got the job." He waited a beat. "Mainly because I can't wait to see you get down and dirty." He threw Quinn a wink.

Instead of a retort, Quinn turned and strolled to the edge of the garden, looking out at the view of La Jolla Cove in the distance. Jax followed. "Great view," he said, looking at Jax. "Needs a lot of work but great potential." He followed that remark with a once-over, raking Jax's body from top to toe and back again, ending at those blue eyes.

* * * * *

Jax just about choked. Masterson coming on to him? What the hell was he playing at now? Payback in some insidiously evil form?

"Yeah, it's an incredible view." Jax responded. And it was a great view. Quinn's soft, worn jeans encased his long legs, molding powerful thigh muscles before curving over what had to be a steel-hard butt and shoulders that were made for grabbing onto as their owner fucked Jax senseless.

Whoa there. Fucked him? No, _he_ did the fucking. Not the other way round. Yet he found his thoughts stuck along those lines as he came to stand beside Quinn looking down at the waves breaking over the rocks. "Dangerous and alluring at the same time, isn't it, the ocean? You know it can consume you yet you still want to go ahead and plunge in." Quinn looked at him quizzically. "Dangerous and irresistible." Jax continued. "Being able to come home and see this view kept me going at times when I thought I wouldn't make out of that hellhole in Afghanistan."

Quinn nodded. "I didn't even need a view like this. Just the thought of being home on American soil was good enough." He looked at Jax for a few seconds, holding the man's gaze long enough for it to send a message.

Jax blinked first and he knew it, too, yet finding himself helpless to resist. Probably the guilt, he told himself. Quinn was out of his depth here and Jax didn't want to add sexual corruption to his list of sins. Nevertheless, here they were and he was definitely getting "wanna" vibes from Quinn. His observation that Quinn had been turned on at the Southern Hole wasn't wrong. But prudence seemed the way to go here. "So...you really want this gardening job?" he asked.

"Yeah, I do." Quinn replied and walked back towards the house. "Show me the rest of this place and where I'll be sleeping."

Jax wanted to say ‘with me' but figured he should at least buy him dinner first. "C'mon, then."

The house was sprawling and built over several levels, each of the seven private quarters on separate levels extending from the main structure. There was a huge split-level lounge on the third floor of the main house with comfortable-looking sofas and large throw cushions. An open-plan kitchen occupied the upper level off to the side, outfitted with gleaming stainless steel appliances.

"Why a whole separate living/dining area up here?" Quinn asked as they walked through it. "There was a kitchen and dining area downstairs on the first level, wasn't there?" They'd taken an elevator up, bypassing the second level which, Jax said, was their home office, an mini-theater and a few guestrooms.

"The lower lounge is for entertaining. Not that we plan on having parties. We leave that to Alex. But there may come a time when I need to entertain for Theron-Knight Atomics. We call it Tikka for short. TKA - Tikka." He waved at the room they were in. "So this is our private space where we'll be living day-to-day. No one gets to come up here. The  entire floor here and our bedrooms are accessible through a digital scan. As I said, no one else gets to come up here or our private rooms."

"Why the tight security?"

"You'll see." Jax laughed softly. That reminded him about Nick. He'd better meet him one last time at The Web and release him from their contract. Once that was done, he'd fuck him here. His cock was already thickening at the thought. He hadn't had Nick since last week after they got back from the Southern Hole. They'd met at the Web after leaving the bar, though it had been a quickie since both of them were already turned on.

"What do you mean I'll see?"

Jax sighed. "I'll explain another time."

"What's wrong with now? I'll be moving in this weekend."

Jax brushed his hand over his scalp. If Alex knew he wouldn't have sent Quinn to stay. _Now why didn't I think of that earlier._ "Right, I'm just going to give it to you straight between the balls, alright? Hekyll and Jekyll are fucking each other. Nick joins in sometimes. So does Adam. Staz watches."

Whoa. Quinn braked in his steps and stared at Jax.

"You asked." Jax shrugged. He came up close to Quinn, almost nose-to-nose. "Yes, Quinn Masterson-Knight. That's what I'm warning you - we fight, sleep, eat and fuck each other. That's how it is unless we're out on a mission.  Deal with it whether you like it or not." He moved on, not waiting to see if Quinn followed. "Each man has his private suite - bedroom, ensuite with walk-in robe,  small living room and kitchenette. All with ocean views, of course." Jax rattled of each description tersely, annoyed at being put in a position where he had to explain the way he and his men lived. "This is one of the suites."

Quinn followed him in. "Nice." The California king bed faced the French windows which opened out to a balcony. The bathroom was already stocked with towels and the usual amenities. "So, what about you?"

"What _about_ me?"

"You fuck them, too?"

Jax paused before answering. "Yes." He went out to the balcony and walked to the other end of it then up the curving flight of stairs. Quinn followed, intrigued by the architecture. "This house is modeled after the houses I saw in Puerto Vallarta."

"Are the rooms assigned yet?" Quinn asked. He followed Jax as they came up to another balcony and entered another suite of rooms similar to the previous one, facing the Pacific at another angle.

"Only mine. You can pick one out now if you like."

"I'll take what's left." Quinn wondered which one Jax had picked but didn't ask.

"The rest of the bedrooms are similar so we don't have to look at them. Let's go down to the gym."

Jax locked the balcony down and they left through the bedroom door. The hallway outside the suite led to a flight of steps going down. Quinn followed, trying to guess which direction they were headed in when Jax suddenly turned around and Quinn found himself unable to stop in time, colliding with the other man.

" _Oompfh_. Sorry, didn't know you were right behind me." Jax's palm shot out to hold off the hard body falling against him, the other going out to steady himself against the wall.

Quinn grappled for purchase, unable to stop himself from grabbing hold of Jax. Quinn held on to the hard body, feeling every ripple of muscle under his fingers. For a minute or two following the collision, the two men held each other as their feet scrabbled for balance.

Jax moaned softly as the masculine scent of man and woodsy spice sent a painful shot of desire straight through his cock. Quinn managed to get his foothold but was still clasping the warm, hard body to him, his lips pressed hard against Jax's neck. Before his brain could shift into gear, his head turned slightly so that his lips moved over Jax's ear, sending a shiver down the man's body. He heard a muttered expletive as his lips brushed over Jax's cheek to his mouth. A ragged groan rumbled from Jax as Quinn lips pressed against his, seeking entry.

Jax muttered another curse. _I shouldn't be doing this._ "I didn't touch you." He held up a hand as if to warn Quinn off. "You made me fall for  -  _on_ \- you."

Quinn quirked up a brow. "Sorry but _you_ were on the bottom and _I_ was on top. Laws of nature."

"Like hell. I don't bottom."

"Whatever." Quinn moved and curled a hand around Jax's neck.

 "Alex is going to kill me." Jax muttered as Quinn pulled him in.

"Tell him I was asking for it," Quinn chuckled softly against Jax's lips. "Begged you for it this time."

"Would you?" Jax asked.  The feel of Quinn's lips nearly undid him. "Beg?"

"I'd rather hear _you_ do it," Quinn murmured and nipped Jax's bottom lip, sucking it in and lapping to soothe away the sting.

"Mmm." Jax felt a warm, calloused palm cup his jaw, positioning him as Quinn's tongue ravaged his mouth, sucking and wrestling with his. The fingers gripped his jaw firmly, bordering on painful but he didn't care. He wanted the hurt and he needed it to be Quinn giving him that sweet pain. "Please."

Quinn released Jax's mouth but kept his jaw trapped in his hand. He looked into the blue eyes, now dark with want. "I like that. Say it again. Beg me for what you want, Theron." He waited a beat then added, "please?"

"Oh fuck." Jax chuckled and jerked Quinn to him, chest slamming against chest. Kissing him. Forcing open the mouth he'd wanted to ravage from the very first time he saw him at the Southern Hole.

Quinn laughed softly, pulling back. "That didn't sound like begging at all."

Jax growled and pulled him back, this time pressing his hand to Quinn's groin and feeling the hard bulge of his erection. "Oh fuck, please."

Quinn's mouth came down on Jax's again, angling his head to deepen the kiss, sucking and biting. He hauled Jax back up two steps till they were back on the short landing and resumed the kiss. He cupped Jax's face, holding him still so he could devour the man and ground his pelvis against Jax's palm, feeling fingers fumbling with his fly buttons. More muffled moans and pleas. He wasn't sure from whom. He licked his way down Jax's neck, breathed in the man as if he'd die if he didn't and bit down, sucking in the tendon and hearing the sharp hiss from Jax.

Somewhere, in the next few moments, Quinn's brain did shift into gear. This time it was he who cursed and moved away, his breaths coming hot and heavy, his cock hurting. What the hell did he just do? Somewhere in that he'd lost control of the situation, of his own need for the man.

The evidence of what he'd done to Jax's neck stared back at him, dark, intense and undeniably erotic. His cock throbbed at the sight. He had to get back that control before he ended up begging. Or did he do that already?

"That was down and dirty alright." Jax gasped as he backed to the wall for support.

"Sweetheart," Quinn said despite himself. "I haven't even begun to go down yet, much less dirty."

 

Friday evening; 

Alex's home; La Jolla Shores Lane

Five of the men alighted from their Yukon Denali, Jax handing the keys to the parking valets hired for the night. If his vehicle looked incongruous among the European luxury makes, Jax didn't notice.

The Knight mansion was awash with lights and soft jazz could be heard coming from the terrace. Charles was at his position, naturally, and greeted each guest by name.

"Master Staz!" He beamed, reaching out to the large Cajun with both hands.

Staz pulled the butler into a crushing embrace. "Howzzit going, Charlie-boy?"

"It's good to see you, Master Staz." The butler accepted the bear hug happily. "And you, too, Master Nick. Masters Hekyll and Jekyll." Charles shook Nick's, then Hayden's and Jordan's hands, pumping enthusiastically.

"Is he ever going to get off this ‘Master' thing?" Hayden whispered to Nick.

"I don't think Charlie-boy gets off on anything." Nick whispered back.

"And where is Master Adam?" Charles asked.

"He'll be here later," Jax replied. "Hot lunch date." He added with a wink.

"Lunch date? It's seven p.m." Charles queried then his frown cleared. "Ah, of course. It's Adam," he said, as if that explained it all.

Several guests were already milling around the living areas and more were on the terrace. Jax spotted Alex talking to an Arab sheikh and made his way to them. Quinn was nowhere to be seen. He hadn't seen him since Tuesday morning at his house when the ex-CIA spook tilted his world upside down. They hadn't gone any further than the kiss but Quinn's parting shot had promised more to come. Much more. His resolution to keep Quinn on the hands-off shelf be damned. Jax found himself looking forward to whatever Quinn was prepared to dish out. The bigger the challenge, the more it turned Jax on.  He'd had called Quinn that very afternoon to invite him for dinner but Quinn's cell phone had been off. It was off the next day, too, and the next. He'd considered calling Rohan to ask where Quinn was but had decided against it. It had only been three days since he last saw the man; three days since they shared just one kiss, to be chasing after him.

But fuck, if that was what a kiss did...

* * * * *

"Jax!" Alex greeted him as he approached. "Sheikh Mansur, Jax Theron, my associate and director of Theron-Knight Atomics."

"Pleased to meet you, Sheikh Mansur." Jax shook the sheikh's hand. "And congratulations on your newly-acquired purchase. I'm sure Shaykhah Fatimah was delighted with her birthday gift."

"She was." the sheikh replied. "Now, my third wife wants one." He lamented, shaking his head. "When you marry, limit yourself to one woman," he said, leaning to Jax to impart that bit of advice. "No need to marry the others."

The three men laughed, someone else joined them, then another. Jax looked at Alex who caught the cue.

"You wanted to have a word with Fred, didn't you?" Alex asked Jax softly. "I saw him on the terrace a few minutes ago talking to Haslinger."

Jax thanked him and made his excuses to the sheikh. He found Haslinger on the terrace chatting with Fred Kingsley and Carolyn. He was glad to see Fred there with Haslinger since it gave him an excuse to approach them since he didn't know Haslinger personally. Fred, however, was an old family friend. That was the good news. The bad news was that Carolyn was there, too. He'd need back-up and called Adam. "Where are you?"

"Just coming through the front door. What's up?"

"I need you to free up Haslinger for me. He's talking to Carolyn and Fred Kingsley. Take Carolyn but leave Fred."

"Carolyn?" Adam frowned as he entered the lounge, looking around. " _Your_ Carolyn?"

"Just get your ass here." Jax snapped. He hadn't seen Carolyn in ages and that was too soon. "The boys are somewhere around but I need you for this job. You know how Carolyn is."

Adam knew Carolyn, alright. She only accepted Adam because his pedigree was bluer than hers. "I see you. On my way." He put his KnightFone back in his pocket and headed towards the terrace. Staz snagged his arm halfway and Adam told him he was in the middle of a job.

"What job?" Staz asked Nick, as they watched Adam wade through the crowd.

Nick shrugged but kept Adam in his sights. "Ah. Haslinger. And Carolyn. Adam's running interference, then." They were supposed to be waiting for Jax's signal which would indicate he needed them to intervene and give him time alone with Haslinger in order to throw out the bait. Seeing Carolyn, they now understood why Jax had called for Adam instead. Jax's ex had never given them the time of day. Only Adam and Jordan passed her criteria and Jordan didn't have the stomach to handle her. Nick sniggered to himself. _Needed a trauma surgeon to do the job._

"Hey, fellas." Quinn clapped a hand on Nick's shoulder and the younger man looked at him in surprise. Staz looked from one man to the other, not quite certain himself where they stood with their boss' son after what happened. Quinn had spent every day at the training compound with Rohan and from the reports they'd been hearing, he'd been impressing quite a few of the trainers. Rohan, in particular, though Staz suspected the guy just wanted to get in the boss' son's pants.

He'd also noted Quinn had kept away from Jax and assumed it was deliberate. No one could blame him, though Staz had remarked to Nick that he'd run to Quinn this morning and the guy was definitely friendlier and even chatty, saying he looked forward to seeing them tonight. Nick had shrugged, still uncomfortable with the episode at the Southern Hole and not believing Knight Jnr would be forgetting it in a hurry. Yet here he was and Staz was right - the guy was at ease and friendly.

Nick wondered what happened during the week to make him so affable. Whatever it was, he hoped the effect lasted. It had been just them for so many years. Bringing a new guy in wasn't easy and the way this started wasn't exactly promising. He was also aware that despite the obstacles, Jax had the hots for the director's son and he'd bet his right nut the feeling was returned.

That brought a pang of want and loss to his gut. It had been awhile since he was called to the Web, except for last Friday after the Southern Hole incident. For more four years, Jax had been fucking him at the club, at least twice a week when they weren't out of town but the past few months, he'd only got a couple of calls and neither Jax nor he had been out on a mission except once for him and twice for Jax. He'd asked his ‘Dom' why the long lapses but his Master had not wished to tell him. It was getting to a point Nick wanted to stop the charade and tell his "Dom" he knew who he was. He didn't want to continue this anymore, not knowing why Jax was staying away.

"Jax making any headway with Haslinger?" Quinn asked, oblivious to Nick's internal struggle.

"Yep. Adam's clearing the way." Staz looked across the room to the terrace.

Quinn followed his gaze. He watched as a stunningly beautiful woman smiling up at Jax as he reached Haslinger; saw Jax bend to receive a kiss from her, turning his face so that it landed on his cheek. Quinn experienced a sense of relief at the chaste kiss. "Who's the woman?"

"Jax's ex." Nick answered.


	19. PART TWO – Chapter  18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn is curious about Jax's ex, of course, but she's not even a speck on Jax's radar so Quinn can relax.
> 
> The rest of the chapter deals with stage setting for Op Sirin. Quinn runs into Haslinger again (didn't I say the guy was jinxed?) and now the hunt is on again.
> 
> If you're a plot person, this would be important. Otherwise, just hang on. Smut-lovers, hang on. It's coming up soon.

"Ex?" Quinn saw Adam go up to the woman and take her arm, speaking into her ear. His gut tightened. _Ex?_ Jax appeared to making his excuses but the woman  - his ex - was obviously reluctant to let him go and moved to drape an arm around his neck. "I thought Jax was gay."

"He didn't know it then," Nick said. "Or maybe he did but it didn't matter."

"You sure she's _ex_?" Quinn growled under his breath as Carolyn's arm went up and around Jax's neck, pressing her lithe body against his.

"Yes. _Ex_." Nick affirmed. "As in ex-fiancée-that-never-was-in-the-first-place."

 _Fiancée_ _?_ "Care to explain that?" Quinn kept his eyes on the couple in question. "Not that it's any of my business but if she's an ex, she doesn't appear to know that or she wouldn't be attaching herself to Jax like a Portuguese man o' war."

Nick looked over at the couple in question then at Quinn, giving him an amused smile.

"I had the impression all of you were unattached," Quinn said. _And mostly gay_. 

"Their  mothers have been friends since they were in their teens," Nick began. For some reason Carolyn got it in her head that she was tailor-made for Jax. At a dinner party where she obviously had one too many, she let drop that she and Jax were engaged to be married. Possibly a Fall wedding. You can imagine when Jax got the call the next morning from his mother demanding why the whole world knew before his own parents did."

Staz chuckled. "I remember the look on his face when I told him it was on Facebook."

"So it wasn't true?" Quinn asked.

"Not a word." Nick replied.

"Why would she say it, then?"

Staz shrugged. "Women. Do the craziest things."

"That's why you should reconsider my offer, hon." Nick leaned in to say in a loud whisper. "I'm not crazy. Just crazy for a certain Cajun."

"Watch it, Monterey." Staz growled. He looked at Quinn. "Jax was sort of "dating" her at one time. Nothing serious, you know. She wasn't the only woman he was dating."

"He did take Carolyn to more functions than he took the other women," Nick said, before adding softly, "Carolyn was the reason why he came out. After that, I'd be his escort...just as "proof" not because we were dating for real. He knew my heart belonged elsewhere." The wink that accompanied that last remark earned him a soft curse from Staz. Quinn looked from one to the other. Both of them got it bad for each other. He wondered why Staz was reacting the way he did. Why did he act as if the attraction was one -sided and treating Nick like an annoying pest. He wondered how long it would take Nick to realize he had the Cajun in the palm of his hand all along. Then again, his own reaction to his attraction towards Jax weren't all that rational either so who was he to judge?

* * * * *

 Jax was relieved when Adam finally whisked Carolyn off. He reached Fred and Haslinger, thinking dodging sniper fire was less stressful.

"Good evening, Fred."

Fred turned at his name. "Jax! Been awhile since I saw you at a function like this. You've become a hermit. John, you've met Jax, of course."

"No, I haven't had the pleasure." Haslinger held out his hand.

"Jax Theron." Jax smiled, shaking the proffered hand.

"John Haslinger."

"I read that report about Dexxon-Wayne head-butting with Global-Synch."

Haslinger smiled. "Old story."

"New playground." Jax pointed out.

Haslinger laughed. "I suppose." He conceded. "Theron Inc?"

"No. Theron-Knight Atomics."

"That used to be Theron Atomics before its merger with Knight Defense & Technology, wasn't it?" Haslinger asked. Jax nodded in response.

"How is your mother, Jax?" Fred asked.

"Very well and enjoying Hawaii, as always."

"That's right, Justin did mention they were leaving for their vacation. I heard they are thinking of retiring there."

"They are making plans to, yes. Just waiting for Caspar to agree to go with them."

"So what are you up to now?" Fred asked him but turned to Haslinger to add, "Jax hasn't taken to corporate life the way his siblings have."

Haslinger chuckled."Not everyone's cut out for a suit and tie." He looked at Jax. "What do you do at Theron-Knight Atomics?"

"I'm with the Combat Systems division. Spent some years in the military after Harvard and thought I'd use my contacts in the army."

"You recently won a contract with DARPA, didn't you?" Haslinger asked.

"We did." And that was all Jax was going to say about it since they weren't allowed to give out any details. He didn't doubt that Haslinger knew what those were, though. "I'll be leaving to set up my own company, by the way."

"Oh? That's news." Fred's brow furrowed up in puzzlement.

"I have opportunities spun off from my current organization that I'd like to pursue."

"What has Alex to say about it?" Fred asked. Jax's close association with their host was well-known even to those who did not know the two men personally and Fred had known both for decades.

"He was the one who suggested it to me."

"What's this new venture about?" Haslinger asked.

"Second-hand hardware...military surpluses. I can't say more at this point except that I have a handful of clients around the world who are interested in acquiring these."

"Why can't they buy them through the normal channels?" Haslinger asked.

"Legalized arms-trading." Fred snorted. "Thought that died out with Khashoggi".

"Because these aren't your normal equipment." Jax slid a look at Fred when the latter turned to ask a waiter for a drink. "But this isn't the time and place," He said pointedly to Haslinger. "If you have a friend you know is on the lookout for what I have, pass him my card. I have a special shipment ready to go out. I need not tell you this isn't for -" he slid Fred another look. "public consumption."

He took out  his calling card and waved it above his head, as if signaling a waiter. When one responded, he asked for an orange with soda before handing the card to Haslinger. "I've only handed this out to a few outside of the country," he said quietly. "You're the first here."

* * * * *

"Time to rock ‘n roll." Staz announced when he saw Jax waving the card. "I'll get Mr. Sherwood."

"We'll get Alex," Nick said.

They split up, each heading for their assigned tasks.

Haslinger took the card, noticing that it displayed only Jax's name and contact information. "Nothing incorporated yet?"

"My clients will only deal with me even though I'm just a middleman so the usual calling card data would be irrelevant."

"Excuse me, Fred Sherwood?" Staz came up him and tapped him lightly on the shoulder.

"Yes?" Fred turned. Jax and Haslinger carried on talking.

"Alex asked if you would join him in the library." Staz bent to say softly in Fred's ear, "he's about to open a selection of his special wines and thought you wouldn't want to miss it."

"Of course, I wouldn't." Fred made his excuses and left with Staz. At the other side of the room, Alex made his excuses to his group of guests,

Once they were alone, Jax lost no time with Haslinger. "I was recently given the opportunity to place a consignment on the B-market." Jax said, and waited to let that sink in. Haslinger gave no sign of comprehending but Jax didn't need words. He'd survived this long being able to read the other person's face at the crucial moment. Haslinger was nibbling.

"What kind?" Haslinger asked after a long pause.

"Strictly confidential?" Jax asked.

"Of course." Haslinger assured him.

"My client has a shipment. Run-offs from Theron-Knight Atomics. Been in the market six months. One previous owner who had it a few months, waiting for it to cool."

"And you said Alex knows?" Haslinger had heard and seen a lot in his lifetime. Done most of that but gypping the family company, especially one so deeply-entrenched with the government took balls.

"No, I said Alex _suggested_ my own start-up. He's not aware of my...side business. Needless to say, I've only selected a handful around the world to move these special goods.  So if you know anyone who might be looking for such a cargo, let me know."

"I'm curious. Why this start-up? I would have thought Theron-Knight kept you occupied - and wealthy - enough."

"Appearances can be deceiving, John. I'd rather not go into details but suffice it to say I'm not getting the rewards from the family company I feel I'm entitled to."

Haslinger nodded, then asked, "Why me?"

"Your connections, discretion...you don't need the money. You have no ties to my family as far as I know. Your involvement in supplying Iran with those helo gunships..." Jax shrugged. "Maybe we're even doing everyone a favor - keep the balance, you know? Why should the powers-that-be have all the power? But that's my liberal side slipping."

"I'll call you if I have anything," Haslinger said after a few moments. The two men parted, each going in the opposite direction.

"Well?" Adam asked when Jax strolled up to him. The rest of the group waited for Jax's reply. He deliberately kept his eyes averted from Quinn, tamping down his disappointment and annoyance that other man hadn't even called.

"Bait thrown." Jax replied. "Now we wait. He didn't reject it but, as I expected, he wasn't going to reveal anything either. Anyway, I'm calling it a night." He turned to Quinn, unable to resist. "Need any help moving over tomorrow?"

Quinn nodded. "Thanks but I don't have much." If he was perplexed by Jax's cool tone, he didn't show it.

Jax turned to the others. "You guys coming with me or staying?"

"We're heading out for dinner," Adam said.

"Give me a lift?" Nick asked Jax. "It's on the way. Wanna drop off and see a friend."

"Sure." Jax was planning to call Nick and settle the issue, anyway. Would delay his plans for Quinn but the sooner Jax fixed this, the better. He'd toyed with the idea of calling Nick up and setting one last scene but had restrained himself. He was already marveling at the younger man's self-discipline, not giving in to the temptation to go to the Web and hope that the Man in the Iron Mask would turn up. It had been their agreement - _he_ would call Nick, not the other way around and so Nick did not even have a contact number for his Dom. Once he got Nick settled, however, Quinn would have his full attention. His growing attraction for the man wasn't only unnerving, it was an aberration. He was, by nature a man who didn't like to obsess, had no taste for angst or drama. And he certainly never cared for anyone enough to enjoy the chase. That Quinn, in a single week had overturned everything was not something Jax took lightly.

* * * * *

They took their leave and headed off in two cars. Nick with Jax, in Adam's Ferrari, and the rest piled in with Adam in the Yukon. Quinn accepted their invitation to join Adam and the others for dinner and ran up to his room to change out of his evening suit. His cover had gone on smoothly and no one asked any questions that he didn't have a smooth reply for. It was the usual cocktail tango-ing - polite enquiries, nods and more nodding; exchanging of business cards - which Quinn had to apologize for not having. His excuse being they were still scouting for their own premises and were presently operating out of one of Alex's offices.

He was just running down the steps when a man came round the corner, almost colliding with Quinn.

"Sorry." Quinn apologized, putting a hand on the guest's shoulder before dashing off.

"Who was that?" Haslinger asked Charles who was just passing by. "He's in a hurry."

"That's Quinn Masterson, sir."

"A friend of Alex? Or one of the delegates?"

"He's a friend of Jax Theron, I believe." Charles answered as he was instructed to do.

Haslinger asked for directions to the restroom and moved away from the butler. He would have liked to ask more but that would have clammed the butler up.

What the hell was Masterson doing here? They had lost him after that debacle in Spain last year. He was to have been delivered to them in Istanbul but that incompetent, Vargas, had lost him. Then Vargas himself went missing. Since then, Taggart had been a pain in the butt, insisting that Haslinger find Masterson and deliver him.

Billy was dead certain Masterson had seen him even though Haslinger had assured him Masterson was in too much of a hurry to look at them. Nevertheless, Haslinger agreed they had too much to lose if Masterson did happen to see and recognize Billy. Haslinger had quickly dressed then gone down to make discreet enquiries as to Masterson's identity once he spotted him. After that, both he and Taggart had left the party to be safe.

"Surely I don't need to tell you we can't afford a scandal," Taggart had said when Haslinger had complained about having to leave a party that could have netted them valuable information.

"We can't take the chance." Taggart had insisted. You know we have a major job lined up and I, for one, don't want to have to explain why it has to be postponed."

You should have thought of that before you ordered me upstairs to fuck you, Haslinger had wanted to retort but, of course, did not. "Relax, Billy. He ran into the john without looking at us."

"You didn't see him because your back was facing him." Taggart had hissed angrily. "I saw him and he was looking at me when he apologized for barging into the room."

Haslinger had stifled a sigh of irritation. _That's the price you pay if you like getting your ass plugged three times a day._ "Alright. I'll take care of him." Haslinger had told Taggart. "We can't just take him out without thinking it through." After making some enquiries, Haslinger had told Taggart Masterson was not only cozy with Petrovsky, he was CIA.

"Even more critical for him to disappear, then." Taggart had countered. "Be creative. Cook up a plan that will have his friends chasing multi-colored herrings. Just don't let them come sniffing anywhere near Taggart Ministries."

Owning the Deputy Director of the CIA was useful at times like these. Masterson, according to Bradley, who, as it turned out, had been Masterson's handler, had moved on to a private  security services company and given up spook work. At the time he ran into Haslinger and Billy, Masterson was working independently. Following Taggart's order for something inventive rather than just getting their hitmen to take him out, Haslinger had taken Bradley out to dinner.

Bradley had called him back the next day with an idea how Haslinger could be rid of Masterson without it coming back to bite him in the ass. When Haslinger had recounted the plan to Taggart, the televangelist had been delighted. Haslinger was still unconvinced it was necessary to worry about Quinn. They had more important things to do than getting rid of someone just because he walked in on you having sex. Even gay sex. But Taggart had pointed out that they weren't killing Quinn. He was merely going to put Masterson to better use. When he was done with him - and Taggart wouldn't be keeping him that long. After all, Masterson was already in his thirties. Good for a short-term diversion but not more.

"Look at what happened to that asshole Ted Haggard," Taggart had said, when Haslinger still balked. ‘President of the National Association of Evangelicals. Look at the fallout!" Taggart had been yelling by then. "If I go down, everyone's ass will be on fire and we have too much at stake to take the risk that this Masterson guy won't suddenly blow the whistle on us. Give him to me for a few weeks then off him." Taggart had ordered. So Haslinger set up the plan of action with Bradley and Taggart was happy enough that something was being done.

When questioned after Masterson slipped through their fingers, Vargas' chief of security had reported that he'd run into Masterson coming out of Vargas' study shortly after Vargas spoke to Bradley. Masterson had said he'd lost his way and decided to use the bathroom he's stumbled into. You'd think Masterson could come up with a more original explanation. Whatever, Bradley was likely compromised and it had been necessary to get rid of him. His death had been disguised as a case of poisoning from eating fugu, the Japanese delicacy. With the likelihood that Masterson overheard the conversation between Vargas and Bradley, it was imperative that Masterson be neutralized. Vargas had fled shortly after the botched job but he was too minor a player for Haslinger to waste time tracking him. There were always plenty just waiting in the wings to take Vargas' place. All it took was one call and Vargas was replaced by another trafficker based in Florida.

After the whole plan had gone belly-up with Masterson's disappearance, the team leader, Santorelli, had also vanished the day before it was his turn to be neutralized. His two team leaders had already been eliminated and Santorelli obviously came to the conclusion he was likely next. He and the female agent had gone into hiding. Not a squeak was heard from them and Bradley had suggested Dante was shielding Masterson, both of them being bosom buddies. They'd arranged the fake report of Santorelli's death to see if anything eventuated. Nothing had and Masterson had vanished just like Santorelli and the woman.

Find Santorelli and they'd find Masterson were Bradley's last words before he ate the poisonous puffer fish.

Haslinger didn't find Santorelli. But now he didn't have to.


	20. PART TWO – Chapter  19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jax comes clean with Nick. These two have history that the other guys don't know about. Not even Staz whom Nick has been in love with like forever. Jax had better sort his shit out with Nick BEFORE he even thinks of getting it on with Quinn!
> 
> ...but Quinn's a pretty understanding guy so...who knows? He might just find the group dynamics a refreshing change from his previous solitary existence.
> 
> WARNING: explicit man-loving.

Nick's membership in the Web was the one and only thing not open knowledge amongst the team members. In the beginning, he needed the privacy to explore his sexual needs, that dark side of him that craved certain acts. These days, however, he wished he could share these desires openly with them. Maybe even find release with them, his brothers, than with faceless, nameless strangers who gave him the momentary high before leaving him empty and hurting in his soul.

Perhaps it was time he told them about these cravings he had. While they lived open lives and sex between them was easy and angst-free, this dark compartment of his was something he'd shared only with Jax, his CO, as regulations required. Anything that was a potential blackmail risk had to be declared but the declaration stopped at commanding officer level. They weren't required to tell their team members but the live-and-let-live atmosphere of KnightShade also led to open discussion of the employees' private lives. Most found the ability to share things they would normally keep private, refreshingly liberating, however.

Nick chewed over this as they drove in silence. His crush on Staz looked like flogging a dead horse. The man had showed no signs of feeling anything remotely close to attraction towards him all these years. He was aware Jax knew about his unrequited love for the Cajun but, typical of Jax, never offered unsolicited advice when it came to anything not connected with a mission. If he confessed his activities at the Web it would, at least, allow him the possibility of satisfying some of his craving, if not the one he had for Staz. His Dom cared for him as best as he could but both knew it wasn't going to be a long-term relationship. And it looked like it would end tonight.

"Where do you want me to drop you?" Jax asked as he exited into La Jolla Shores Drive.

"The Web." Nick replied.

"How's that going?" Jax asked.

Nick turned to look at him. "You tell me, Jax. How _is_ it going?" He paused a beat before adding, " _Master._ "

It was a good thing Jax had slowed at the junction or he would have crashed the car. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. "How long have you known?"

"Remember Colombia? Bastard got me in the chest? Would've killed me if not for the Kevlar and the packs of cash I had strapped to me."

Jax nodded. He'd carried Nick through the jungle until they'd reached the clearing where the helo, piloted by Staz, was picking them up. It was too uneven for the helo to land so he'd had to strap Nick to the stretcher and be hauled up together. When they were safely away, he'd cradled Nick all the way until they reached the airfield where a KnightShade Hercules was waiting to evacuate them. He'd stayed with Nick throughout his recovery, whispering words of encouragement, literally holding his hand and, when Nick was better, holding him close at night until the younger man fell asleep.

"I'd know your touch anywhere, anytime, Jax." Nick said softly. "I know your smell."

For once, Jax didn't know what to say.

When the silence dragged on, Nick finally asked, "Why? Why didn't you want me to know it was you?"

The lights had changed and Jax moved off. "How about we go on home instead? We'll talk there." He suggested, though it sounded more like a command.

"Okay."

* * * * *

Nick felt Jax reach for his hand as they made their way across Coronado bridge. They didn't talk until they reached home.

As soon as the door was shut, Jax breathed out Nick's name and slammed him against the wall. His mouth crushed Nick's but just as quickly, gentled.

Nick's cock strained against his pants. He'd already been hard from the moment Jax asked how he knew. Finally, they'd settle this. And yeah, Nick would settle for anything Jax was prepared to give. Anything, to be kissed like this every day by him since the one man he longed for wanted nothing of him. He felt his face cupped between two warm palms, hard yet soft with tenderness. The tenderness that had been served to him with strength and understanding at the Web the last four years.

Jax stopped to take a quick breath before devouring Nick's lips again. "God, I need you. Let me have you first. Talk later." He dragged Nick by the hand to his bedroom.

The lights came on gently as he entered. He turned a dial and the warm yellow light deepened to a red. He wasn't ready to face Nick completely just yet and the red cast thrown on them made for a suitable barrier.

"Remain standing. Don't move." He gave the command firmly, halting Nick in his steps. Jax went up to him, cupping a hand around the back of his head, moving his lips just a hair's breadth over Nick's face.

Jax could feel the heat rising off Nick's skin, could smell the man's arousal in the sweat beading on his forehead and above his upper lip. He undressed the younger man, taking his time, drawing out the tension till both of them were strung taut. Nick swallowed heavily, taking deep, gulping breaths into his lungs, his now-bare muscular chest expanding and contracting as he controlled his escalating need.

Jax groaned softly in ragged breaths as his mouth moved down Nick's body, from throat to navel. At five eleven, Nick was shorter and leaner than the rest but perfectly proportioned with a bubble butt he couldn't resist wiggling just to annoy the hell out of Staz. With those hazel eyes, long sooty eyelashes and sensuous lips, there wasn't a gay man alive who could resist him and the straight ones were pissed, recognizing a chick magnet when they saw one.

Jax knelt and took off Nick's shoes and socks, the pants following moments later. His blue eyes darkened with want as he looked at the hard cock jutting out in front of him, the drop of pre-come tempting him to lick and suck and take its source deep in his throat.

Sucking Nick was something he'd never done. He'd saved that just as he'd never bottomed. As if he were saving it for someone. For whom? Not Nick. If he didn't know before, he did now and muttered a curse as the image of himself on his hands and knees being pounded into the mattress by Quinn filled his vision. _Fuck._ Got to get that man out of my head. And out of my ass!

"Hey." Nick rasped. "You still with me?" He blew out a half breath, half chuckle. "Stop thinking about Quinn while you're with me, ‘kay?"

Jax barked out a short laugh. Looked like he could not get anything past this young punk. "I will if you stop thinking about Staz whenever I'm fucking you." _Two could play the same game!_

"Umm." Nick smiled. "Deal."

Jax rose from his haunches and pressed Nick down onto his bed, legs hanging over the edge. He took off his own clothes and stood there naked, looking down at Nick. Then his body covered Nick's, his mouth sucking and biting into Nick's neck. He ran his hands over the hard muscles on the heaving chest under him, moving over the washboard abs to find the long, thick cock which leapt when Jax's fingers touched it.

He moved off Nick to curl his arms under Nick's knees, pushing the legs back until they pressed back against Nick's chest and exposing him wantonly. "Hold that position," Jax told Nick and slid down to his haunches again, facing Nick's puckered entrance. Digging his thumbs into Nick's flesh, Jax parted the butt cheeks and lapped at the hole then sucking noisily. As Nick's tortured moans filled the bedroom, Jax thrust his tongue in, working it all the way in. And out. And in again, speeding up until he had to hold Nick's hips down as the man thrashed and squirmed.

Finally, Jax looked up, the lower half of his face wet with his own saliva. He pulled out the built-in drawer under the bed and took out the container of lube, pumping out enough to coat his aching cock. He pumped more onto two fingers and pushed the lube into Nick's hole. Lining his own thick cock up with the well-lubed hole, he guided it into Nick, pressing into the ready body with a reverent silence. When he was fully seated, he leaned over and pulled Nick to him, burying his face in the man's neck and shoulder and his cock deep inside, thankful yet again for being able to ride bareback, something he'd never done with those outside the team.

It was several moments before he moved, pulling out slowly and re-entering. "You'll be mine?" He whispered. "No matter what?"

Nick turned his face to his commanding officer. "Always." He gave a small smile then added, "no importe lo qué, no importe quien."

"Same here," Jax said. "No matter what, no matter who...even when the Cajun comes around?"

Nick laughed softly, his muscles clenching around Jax causing him to curse out loud again. "Let's cross that bridge when we get to it." He sighed softly. "Even as I'm having to cross your bridge now. Fuck me, Jax. Fuck me again before you fuck him."

And Jax did.  A hard and desperate fucking, borne out of a deep, inexplicable need they had only been able to satisfy with each other, knowing somewhere deep in them that one day someone else would fill that hole in their soul and each man was just the guardian of the other until that time came. When, at last Nick came, his climax contorting his features, Jax followed, roaring helplessly into the abyss with him.

Several minutes later, Jax hugged the lean hard body under him, moving up until he reached Nick's neck.

"Hey." Nick whispered huskily. "Don't leave any fucking hickeys on me the way you're showing off Quinn's, okay?"

Jax automatically touched his neck. Shit. He'd forgotten about them.

"I - I wanna wear his, you know?" Nick said.

"I know, babe." Jax whispered, knowing who Nick was referring to. "He'll come around. He's just scared. You're like his kid brother, Nick. He's looked out for you since we got you."

" _You_ fuck me with no problem." Nick pointed out.

"Yeah, but I'm not a nice man like Staz."

"Didn't stop Quinn." Nick sniffed. "Hell, even after you raped him, he's back for more."

"You know that wasn't what happened." He gave Nick's ass a smack.

"Ow!"

"Miss that, do you?" And did it again. And again.

"Fuck me again?"

"All night, babe. All night."

* * * * *

"No importe lo qué, no importe quien, huh?" Jax asked as they took a shower, half an hour after he'd fucked Nick doggy-style then on his side then with a dildo together with his cock - ‘to prepare you for Staz's monster cock', Jax had said, when Nick had gasped at the the double penetration.

"Always, sir. No  matter what, no matter who." Nick gave a mock salute.

Until the day comes to give him to the one his heart belongs to, Jax added silently. But Nick was right. No matter what happened, they'd belong to each other in that unique way covert operatives bonded, even as both men recognized one phase in their bonding had ended and another was beginning.

As Nick dutifully let his CO wash him for the first and maybe the last time, he wished he had something to go towards as Jax had. He didn't know how much longer he could wait yet knew he didn't have much of an alternative. He'd loved and waited more than ten years for Staz, thirteen to be exact, and even if he gave up and fucked the rest of the world, no one would be able to fill that void in him that was Staz's alone to fill. Now, he'd have to watch Jax - his Dom, ex-Dom, whatever - fuck a man whom even Nick could tell was the forever kind. And very likely didn't share either. Jax would come to love Quinn the way Nick loved Staz and Nick would have to watch it day after day, waiting for his day to come. Which may never. Fuck!

"What?" Jax asked as he rinsed off the soap from Nick's cock and balls.

"Nothing."

Jax straightened up, turning off the shower. "You know something?"

"What?"

"We had to wait for Operation Sirin. Couldn't push it. Could only wait. Monitor it and be ready when it flapped its wings."

"Yeah. So?"

"But we didn't do only that, did we? We threw out a bait at the right time, didn't we? If we had the target pegged correctly, he'd bite, wouldn't he?"

"Ye-eah." Nick drew out the syllable. "You trying to tell me something, _boss_?"

Jax chuckled. "You're one of my best, babe. You figure it out."

Nick smiled. "Thanks. I think I got it."

* * * * *

They grabbed a six-pack and went back to Jax's bedroom to watch a movie. And to talk. They hadn't done much of that, fucking being the priority. Now, sated, at least for the next couple of hours, they could talk. Then fuck again. Jax didn't know if Staz would be willing to share once he woke up to what Nick meant to him but he hoped so. He still hadn't given up his fantasy of seeing Nick getting gang-banged by them. But now, that fantasy was accompanied by one of him being fucked by Quinn as his men watched. Oh well, cross that bridge later, as Nick said.

He passed the beer to Nick and turned his body round to face him. "I left the cocktail with the intention of calling you to meet me at the Web."

"Five fucking weeks, Jax. And no, that quickie last Friday after the Southern Hole doesn't count." Nick tilted the bottle to his mouth. "I'd see you every morning, almost every night and couldn't say anything. I thought when you came back from Afghanistan, I'd get a call but nada. I was so afraid you'd suspect I knew who the Man in the Iron Mask was and just break it off without a word. I couldn't tell you I already knew way back. Couldn't tell you how seeing your face the next morning at work, after you'd fucked me to the ground the night before turned me on so much I wanted you to bend me over your desk and fuck me again.

"You were my Dom." Nick continued when Jax didn't respond. " You'd set the rules - no trying to find out your identity, never take off my blindfold, don't even ask for it to be taken off, never try to call you or follow you. Never do shit except what you command, what you allow. Did I protest? Did I even negotiate? No. I accepted your Ts & Cs unequivocally. Hundred and ten per cent trust in you.

"You obviously didn't want me to know it was you." Nick pressed on. "Was I curious? Of course, but I figured you'd tell me in your own time. I trusted you. I still do. If you didn't want me to know your identity, that was good enough for me. I didn't need to try and figure out why." Nick sat forward, twisting his body till they were face to face. "I guessed it was you the third week we met." He saw the flare of surprise in Jax's eyes give way to knowing admiration. "By the fifth week I was sure. You know how I knew? Well, the way you breathe, for one. Even though you were using the voice distortion device, you breathe a particular way when you're aroused. I've watched you fuck other guys. Listened to you when you're about to come and when you're climaxing. I recognized the hitch, the way you hold your breath on the first spurt, then the hitch and the long, low moan when you're spent." He grinned at Jax. "And yeah, your smell like I said earlier."

"I smell?"

"Yes, but in a good way. It's all yours. My cock wakes up every time I get a whiff of Eau de Jax. Of course, Staz's just makes me go crazy. Probably a good thing I can't get near enough most times to smell him or I'd be spurting all over him! Think how that'd go down with him." Nick laughed. He drained his bottle and set it down behind them on the recessed headboard.

"Did you hate me for hiding from you?" Jax asked.

Nick cocked his head, looking out at the city lights from the floor-to-ceiling windows. "No, not hate. Just sad sometimes."

Jax dragged his hand down his face. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let it go on so long."

Nick turned to him. "No regrets, Jax. Where else could I have gone? You understood my needs. You fed them without judging me or condemning me and me feel alive. Gave me a way to get all my - my shit out and made me feel cherished. How could I be angry with you for that?"

"But you would have preferred knowing who was doing the feeding and the cherishing."

Nick scooted over and laid his head on Jax's chest. He trailed a finger around a nipple, feeling the nub harden and bent to suck it into his mouth.

"I thought you wanted to talk." Jax laughed, smoothing his palm over Nick's butt. "God, I love your ass."

"We talking or what?" Nick lifted his head to ask.

"Or what." Jax answered. "Bring that ass up here."

* * * * *

Several minutes of ass-eating later, Jax held Nick close to him.

"Jax?" Nick murmured.

"Hmm?"

"When you get together with Quinn, does it mean you won't be fucking me anymore?"

Jax tightened his hold. "No, Nick. Never." He moved Nick away so he could look him in the eye. "I feel differently about Quinn. I admit that but it doesn't change the way I feel about you. I've loved you like forever and I'll be fucking you until my dick curls up and dies." He laughed then sobered. "You should know how I feel about you and Quinn. You feel the same way about Staz and me. Am I right?" he smiled. "Or am I right?"

"As long as you keep fucking me, I don't care if you're right or wrong." Nick rose up on his knees and straddled Jax. He reached behind him to position Jax's cock so the tip nudged his hole. Then he sank down in one move, almost choking Jax with the intensity of the sensation. "And now, I'm going to fuck myself on you. Any objections, boss?"

Jax's only response was a hitched breath and a loud groan as Nick lifted up, dragging his ass up around Jax's cock then plunging back down on it again.

"Like that?" he asked.

"Driving me nuts." Jax grunted.

"Driving you like a pile driver, that's what." Then Nick clutched Jax to him while he lifted and plunged his ass on Jax's cock at a speed that had Jax gasping.

"Love your cock!" Nick rasped. "Love the feel of it stretching me so wide....can't get enough of it...of you." He lifted his head to look at Jax. "Fuck me again. Really hard this time."

Jax flipped him over onto his side and lifted up one leg before fitting himself to Nick like two pairs of open scissors. He hugged Nick's leg to him as his hips pistoned in and out of Nick, moving back now and then to watch his cock slide in and out of that delectable hole. When, at last he came, he pumped a full load into Nick before pulling out then taking Nick's cock in his mouth to finish him.

And Nick gave as good as he got, pumping so much come into Jax's mouth that despite several gulps, come still dribbled out of Jax's mouth when he pulled away.

It was awhile before the two men could rouse themselves to get cleaned up. When they finally climbed back into bed, the surveillance monitor lit up and they watched the rest of the guys come in.

Jax kissed the top of Nick's head. "You feeling better now?"

"Much." Nick answered with a satisfied sigh. "Why didn't you want to fuck me before? I mean, why did you only fuck me at the club and not here?"

"I didn't want you to think sex with me was part of your duties. With your history, I didn't want to risk your thinking you were back in the same shithole you got out from."

Nick stirred in his arms and Jax tightened the embrace. "I wouldn't have thought that."

"You don't know that and I told you, I wasn't prepared to risk it. I had a job to do. You had the skills I needed. Fucking around with you, literally, would have been the wrong thing to do at the time."

"When did you decide it would be okay?" Nick looked up at him.

Jax grinned broadly then. "When Hekyll and Jekyll started rutting away in front of us during the NFL game a few days before I flew out to Kabul."

Nick laughed. "Could I forget? Shit, Hayden's load spattered on the TV screen! Eww. That's so not hot."

"Yes, well, after that I walked in on Adam as their third and he told me later they'd been fucking each other for years. Just that Adam always went back to his own room afterwards."

"Yeah. Hekyll and Jekyll will invite the entire state to join their fuckfest but their bed is just for the two of them." Nick pondered on that for awhile.

"But it doesn't stop them sleeping in _my_ room and giving us all a display," Jax said.

"And what a show the three of them put on. I always hoped you'd fuck me after watching them but you never even touched me. Do you know how hard it was for me to watch you fuck them?"

Jax nuzzled the top of Nick's head. "No. I didn't know. But hey, you fucked them then went to sleep yourself."

"I guess." Nick waited a beat."But I never disobeyed you. I never let anyone fuck me but you."

"I know."

"Don't you ever wish you have what they have?"

Jax took awhile to answer. "Honestly? I haven't thought about that."

"Never?"

"Nope." Jax shook his head. "Same as I never thought of getting married, having kids, having a dog..."

"Not even a dog? Man, that's cold." Nick shook his head at Jax. "So once you saw the rest of us had no problem fucking each other, it released you to uhh...do me?"

"Yes - if you want to put it so bluntly." He kissed Nick lightly on the mouth. I sensed your needs, I had mine and The Web was a convenient and safe place to feed those needs. And I didn't have to worry the morning after whether I was taking unfair advantage of you and abusing your trust. Both as a Master and as your commanding officer."

"I'm glad you took me to the Web, Jax." Nick's finger curled around Jax's arm. "But there's this one thing left."

"What?"

"Does this mean they can fuck me now or am I still restricted to you?"

Jax laughed. "You're free to do whatever or whoever and whoever can do whatever you want to you, Nick. I don't own you. Just don't get yourself hurt, is all I'm asking."

"So would you be okay if you still made me yours but let the others fuck me?"

"God, you're like a kid!" Jax looked at him, laughing. "Is that what you want?"

"Yes, please," came Nick's soft answer. "I really still want to be yours, too."

"Then that's what you are, Nicky baby." He kissed him lightly. There was a long silence as they just held each other. Then the intercom buzzed. It was Staz.

"Yeah, Staz. Yes, everything's fine. Yeah, Nick's here with me. See you in the morning." Jax turned back to Nick. "That man loves you, you know?

"I know." Nick replied. " _He_ doesn't."

Jax chuckled then sobered. "I was planning to tell you tonight it was me and that it was over."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Really."

"You wanted to end it with me?" Nick winced inwardly. "Did that come out all whiny and needy?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what? You wanted to end it or I was whiny and needy?"

"Both, of  course."

"Be serious."

Jax chuckled. "Okay. I was going to end our arrangement."

"Because of Quinn?"

"That, too." Jax replied. "Quinn, and the fact that I think you need to give Staz a kick up his ass to get his brain into gear where you're concerned and you could only do that as a free man." He paused. "In any case, I probably would have ended up telling you I was the Man in the Iron Mask tonight."

"What about the five-week absence?" Nick asked a few minutes later. "And the quickie after the Southern Hole? As if that was going to make up for anything."

 When Jax didn't answer, he turned to look at him. "What's going on, Jax?"

Jax dragged a hand down his face. "The Firebird," he said. "Been getting to me lately. Couldn't shake off the feelings since Spain. Sometimes, I'd wake up in the middle of the night and think Luis is the real me and Jax my cover. Then morning would come and I'd realize it was just another fucked-up dream."

Nick sat up, straddling Jax, arms entwined around his neck. "What's that got to do with us and the Web?"

"Before I flew back from Afghanistan, I'd already decided I'd end our arrangement. I didn't want any more disguises."

"What happens now?"

"What do you mean?" Jax asked.

"I mean Quinn Masterson. Somewhere between Afghanistan and the Southern Hole, he turned up and you're shooting off enough sparks to start a multi-state forest fire every time he's in the room." The grin appeared again. "He is hot, and I'd do him anytime but after that Southern Hole episode, I wouldn't hold my breath waiting for him to bend over."

"Hold the breath, babe. He's already thrown out the challenge."

"Whoa. Really." Nick whistled. "Do tell." He settled  down to listen. "When was this?" he asked after Jax told him.

"Tuesday morning." Jax replied, absently stroking Nick's cock. "Haven't seen him until tonight, though. He could be regretting that burst of bravado."

"You haven't seen him until today ‘cos he's been out on a training mission and sim exercise. POW. Tied up, simulated torture and rape. Apparently, he freaked out and had to be taken to MediCom." He stopped when he saw Jax's face. "You didn't know?"

"No." Jax's answer was terse. He sat up. "Is he okay? What happened? Fuck! Why wasn't I told?"

"Settle down. He's okay," Nick said. "He didn't say much, just that the sim session brought a flashback stronger than any he'd gotten before but he was fine afterwards. The guys were concerned about his reaction and Rohan called a halt. Had him sent to MediCom. He was only discharged yesterday. Ask Adam. They had dinner together last night."

"They did?" Jax breathed again. "He must be okay, then, or Adam would have told me."

"Yeah, he's fine and - if you must know, which you don't - he's as hot for you as you are for him."

"I thought you didn't want me thinking about him while I'm with you."

"Yeah, well, I'm pretty sated now so I can be magnanimous."

"So you're ready to sleep instead of fuck?"

"I guess I could squeeze in another round seeing as I don't know how long it will be between drinks now that Mr. Masterson has issued you a challenge you sure ain't gonna walk away from."


	21. PART TWO – Chapter  20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> M31 move to their new home. Nick, true to form, hits on Quinn. The dynamics are changing, not just between Jax and Quinn but between Nick and Staz. May be still a ways to go for the latter two but it'll get there.
> 
> Quinn also has to adjust to a house rule.

_Saturday;_

_Jax's new residence_

The move to their new residence went smoothly. With nothing much to unpack and put away - Quinn had kept his stuff in storage for now - Quinn made his way downstairs and saw Nick was already watching a game in the lounge. None of the others were around, not that he minded. It would be a good opportunity to get to know Nick. He'd work his way through each of them one at a time.

"The furniture's new." Quinn remarked.

"Hi." Nick smiled up at him. "Yeah. Jax is renting out the Coronado furnished. Told the interior decorators to put new stuff in here. Easier that way. Hey, you done unpacking? If you are, how about a swim? The others are still organizing their junk, it looks like."

"Sure." Quinn replied. "I could do with one. Let me go get my bathers. You grab the beers."

"What bathers?" Nick asked. And proceeded to strip down completely. "It's the weekend."

"The weekend?" Quinn repeated.

"Yeah, the weekend." Nick repeated. "House rules. By dinner time, it's all skin. All weekend. Check out Adam's buns. Yum." He waggled his eyebrows. "That man is giving my bubble butt a run for its money. Wonder who his new trainer is."

"What do you mean ‘all skin, all weekend'?" Quinn asked suspiciously.

"Au naturel, of course. From Friday evening to Monday morning. We train in the nude, eat in the nude and watch the games in the nude."

"You're having me on," Quinn said. Where he grew up, dressing for dinner wasn't quite expected but wearing clothes were. Swimming in the nude, he could do easily but eating in the nude?

"You'll see." Nick asked, walking out of the house, semi-hard cock bobbing as he went.

Quinn stared at Nick, took a deep breath and stripped. What was there to say? The place was an asylum.

* * * * *

Quinn eyed Nick's muscular body as he dived into the pool. He may not be as big and tall but he was fit and his muscles well-defined. And yes, that bubble butt of his - Quinn halted in his thoughts as he slid in the water. Shaking his head at his thoughts, he focused on doing his laps, as did Nick. They completed a dozen laps before taking a break.

"Heya." Nick emerged next to Quinn, wiping the water from his face. "You gotten past last weekend's fiasco? I know we already apologized that day but I want to do it again. Alone. Just you and me."

"I'm cool." Quinn told him. "The air's been cleared. I know you guys wouldn't have done what you did if not for being set up by that asshole."

"Yeah, well, I can't help feeling there's still some tension between you and Jax. We get fried whenever you two are in the room. Not that you've been around much this week - the training sessions and all - but the times we did run into you -" he made sizzling noises and zigzag gestures with clawed fingers.

Quinn laughed but didn't comment on that, choosing instead to deny any lingering friction between him and their commanding officer. "There's no problem, Nick. I've had a busy week, as you know, and I don't think I need to tell you Rohan's your Drill Sergeant from hell. The minute I was cleared to leave MediCom, he sent me back to the field. Sonofabitch."

Nick chuckled. "That's our Rohan." After a minute he asked, "You okay? We were worried about you."

"Yeah, I'm fine." Quinn blew out a breath. "Tell me, you guys aren't the military so why is Jax the Commanding Officer and why does Staz calls him ‘sir' but also ‘Boss'? I'm a little confused."

"We use some military terms rather than civilian ones even though officially, Alex is a CEO and someone like Jax is like the COO. But since almost 90% of KnightShade ops are ex-military, it's easier to just use the same terms so Jax is the CO of his team and Staz is CO of his own but Rohan's Director of Training Programs & Ops. It's mixed, yes. Nothing cut in stone. As for addressing the team leaders as "sir", we only do that when someone's being disciplined. Or trying to make a point with his leader, if you know what I mean. And don't ever call Jax ‘Boss'."

"Staz does."

"That's Staz's way of showing affection. He's the only one who gets away with it." Nick watched Quinn's face quietly for a few minutes, then asked again, "so you and Jax, you guys are okay?"

"Yes." Quinn replied. "We are."

"He was worried, you know."

"About?"

"You. When he heard you had to be pulled out of the training exercise."

"It was nothing. Alex had given instructions for Rohan to pull me off and report in if I had any flashbacks or showed extreme distress." Quinn explained. ‘Not because he's afraid I can't handle it but because we're monitoring my progress re. my amnesia."

"Well, that should take a load off Jax's mind."

"What do you mean?"

"He mentioned he hadn't seen you since Tuesday morning," Nick replied. "I told him you were out at field on training and told him about your being taken to MediCom. He wasn't happy about not being told but once he knows it wasn't ‘cos you were hurt or anything, he'll be cool." A moment later he added, "I think."

Quinn mulled over that for a moment. "So what do you guys do most of the time?" he asked, changing the subject. "You guys aren't like the other operatives, are you? I mean, you aren't on call like the other ops and you don't get assigned, do you?"

"No. We're on standby exclusively for Op Sirin. We're expecting something soon that's why we're on high alert but I was called out a couple of weeks back. It depends on Jax. If he thinks the team can spare one or two of us, he'll assign us if we're short on available ops. If the job's not urgent, he turns it down."

"Sounds like a lot of sitting around and waiting."

"Yep. When we were selected for this mission, we knew much of it would be just cooling our heels and monitoring intel but once something came up, we had to be ready to move and move fast."

"What happens if you're in the middle of one and there's something up with Operation Sirin?"

"Then Jax calls in the back-ups and we switch. If that's not possible, like if we were undercover and knee-deep in shit, then we have back-ups for Operation Sirin, too." He flicked Quinn a glance. "Yeah, we have ‘em but they aren't part of this team. Like Rohan. He's a back-up but not part of M31."

"You mean the Super Six?"

"Whoa, Whoa. Don't ever call us that in our hearing if you want to keep your balls, man."

"Sorry." Quinn grinned, putting up a hand and covering his crotch with the other. "I was told that was Bridget's nickname for you. "

"She calls us that but ... no nicknames, okay? We're just The Team. The Guys. Anything but That Name." Nick gave his eyes an exaggerated roll. "Don't mention M31 either."

"I know. Alex already briefed me about that.

"So what about you?" Nick asked. "What's Rohan got you doing?"

"Simulation games. That's all I'm doing for now," Quinn said. "We're still trying to figure out what's going on with me, how I'm tied up with Dante's disappearance. I know I've only been here a week but I've been in KnightShade training for six months before I joined you guys and six months before that in Rehab so I told Alex either Jax gives me an assignment or let me go."

"Go where?"

"Do my own thing, whatever that is."

Nick's brows shot up. "You do know KnightShade doesn't accept job applications, don't you? That it's a don't-call-us, we'll-call-you policy here so it's near impossible to get a foot in the door unless we invite you? You got in because your old man owns the shop and you proved he made the right decision but still, that foot is in because of Alex. You drop it, you won't get it back. Daddy or no Daddy."

"I know but Artistree, the landscaping company I was planning to join, isn't just another company either. Alex may own KnightShade but I own Artistree. Part-own it, anyway. I got in here because I can do the job, not just because the owner's my old man. And you know what? I qualified for a KnightShade job but Alex couldn't get a job at Artistree to save his life. You think he knows the difference between Belladonna and Bluebells?"

Nick laughed out loud but sobered in the next minute. "Does Jax know?"

"About Artistree? Yes. About my wanting to get more than just training exercises? Yes. That, too. I'll wait and see how it goes. The cocktail last night was a good start so hopefully, I'll get assigned to something more soon. If that doesn't materialize then, yeah, I'll have a talk with Alex. Until I regain my memory of that week, I'm not much help, anyway, and if Jax doesn't assign me to anything, there's really no point in me hanging around.

"On the other hand, Artistree has grown considerably and we have branches in several states. We're busier than ever and handling more corporate accounts...and the tree house division is getting really exciting." Quinn's eyes lit up as he spoke about designing and building tree houses for resorts, parks and private clients. He hauled himself up and sat on the pool edge, his legs dangling over in the water.

"Wow. You really like this tree house building thing, don't you? How the hell did you end up with the CIA? Talk about square pegs in round holes." Nick pulled himself up to sit next to Quinn.

 _Damn. He was shaved_. Quinn couldn't resist taking a look at the other man's groin. Nick's cock was cut. Nice-sized head with a thick rim. Quinn forced himself back to the topic at hand.  "I've already been asked that a few times." his lips twisted in a wry smile. "When I figure it out, I'll let you know. Thing is, you'll probably know before I do."

"You mean like the way I knew you were gay before you were willing to admit it?"

Quinn stared, not knowing how to respond.

Nick smirked and eyed Quinn's cock which, traitor that it was, began to stir. "That night at The Southern Hole. You were angry. Shocked. Maybe a little scared. Not of us, though you should have been." He waited a beat. "You were also hard." He reached for Quinn's cock. "Like now."

Quinn didn't stop him. Couldn't. Embarrassed yet paralyzed by the surge of lust that raced through him. He couldn't breathe. Not even when Nick bent down and swiped his tongue across the top of his cock, licking up the drop of pre-come.

"Hey." Quinn shoved Nick's head away and moved out of reach. ‘Cut it out."

It was the weakest protest Nick had ever heard but understandable. "At least you have time to think about it. I didn't."

"About what?"

"Whether I was gay or not. ‘Gay' wasn't something I had to struggle with. It was something I had to do whether I liked it or not."

Quinn blew out a small sigh, hanging his head. "I'm sorry. Jax told me a bit about each of you. I'm surprised you don't hate men instead."

Another laugh from Nick. "Hate ‘em? Naw. I love guys. Even if I weren't raped as a kid," he paused at Quinn's expression. "Yeah, my foster dads raped me. Both of them. I ran away from the second one. That was when Jax and Staz found me. Maybe I would have still been gay even if cock wasn't the first thing I tasted rather than pussy. I never really thought about it. That's what I mean. Guys like you and Mr. Cajun, have to go through all that "oh my God, am I gay?' crap. I didn't. I was thrown right into it and it's all I know. I love women, of course. I just don't get it up for them."

"I'm sorry," Quinn apologized again. "It must have been pretty rough for you growing up like that. Was it hard in the Navy?"

"No. I'd learnt to hide my sexuality when it was prudent to do so," Nick replied. "Besides, Staz was there most of the time and no one hanging around with him could possibly be gay. Right?" he grinned.

"He may be straight but he can't be homophobic if he's with you guys." Quinn chuckled a bit then sobered. "I'm not as straight as I thought I was, am I?"

"You honestly want me to answer that?" Nick laughed.

"I guess not."

They lapsed into silence for a few minutes then Nick spoke. "Not only didn't I have a choice in my sexuality, I didn't get to choose who, how and when to get fucked either." He paused. Quinn waited for him to go on. After a moment, he did. "You think we're a bunch of shitheads or wackos when it comes to sex but to me, this is a haven, Quinn. I had a good man-to-man chat with Jax last night. Told him now that he's not going to be fucking me at the club anymore but will be doing it openly here, whether it meant I could have any of you that I want. Or all." He winked at Quinn.

Quinn blinked at him. "What do you mean?" he asked, warily.

"Jax had been fucking me for like, four years or so but only in this BDSM club. He wore a mask and I was blindfolded just to make doubly sure I couldn't see who he was."

"Why?"

"Well, to cut the long story short, he didn't want me thinking sex was part of my duties seeing as that was what I was brought up to believe."

"Fuck." Quinn whispered.

 "It's fine now. That's what I'm trying to tell you. Last night we terminated the contract so I'm free to get fucked by anyone I want. Or whoever Jax wants me to get fucked by."

"You gonna let Jax decide who fucks you? But wouldn't that bring back all the bad memories?"

"It should but not the way we do it. With  us, it's what the KnightShade shrinks call Exposure Therapy. Jax and the guys replace my bad memories by exposing me to positive ones but through reliving similar scenes. The critical difference being it's a hundred per cent consensual. I'm the one who gives Jax the power to do with me as he pleases. I take that power back and he's got nothing."

"Mmm." Quinn squinted, trying to make sense of it. "Are you saying because in the past you were raped by people you should have been able to trust, you now get fucked by your commanding officer and his team and that's supposed to be remove the negative memories and replace them with good ones? What kind of fucked-up shrinks are those KnightShade guys?"

Nick laughed. "You obviously have no clue, do you? Believe me, I may be the fuckee but I'm the one in control. Those guys have been rabid to fuck me for years but Jax won't allow it. By tonight, they would have heard the ban has been lifted and Quinn...they'll sell their mothers just to get a taste of my ass."

"You're having me on." Quinn pushed off the ledge and plunged into the water, swimming away. Nick laughed softly, shaking his head.

Three laps later, Quinn swam up to Nick. "Uh...you and Jax are together?"

"We are fuck buddies. The way we are with the rest." Nick said. "Okay, more than fuck buddies. It - it's hard to explain...he's always looked out for me, you know. Like Staz." He looked at Quinn, as if searching for something. "Look, I can see what's going on with you two even if you don't. Or won't admit it. Staz and I have been dancing around each other for thirteen years or so and - "

"Thirteen years!" Quinn did a quick calculation. "Since you were fifteen?" Nick nodded. "How old's Staz?"

"Thirty-three."

"And you?"

"Twenty-eight."

"You sure there's something there for you?"

"Yes, there is but don't distract me. This is about you and Jax."

"No, it isn't. I just want to know what's the deal with you guys. Got nothing to do with me."

Nick gave him The Look.

"It's not about me." Quinn insisted. "Okay, maybe a little." He conceded.

"Where the heck was I?" Nick asked, exasperated. "You distracted me again."

"You were telling me about you. You being here. Here being a haven. You and Jax being more than fuck buddies."

"Oh yeah."

"Told you it wasn't about me." Quinn muttered, earning another Look. "Go on."

"So yeah. Me and Jax are more than fuck buddies cos he understands my needs the way no one else does." _Least of all Staz._

"What needs?"

"To give total control of my body to Jax. I want him to use his position as my commanding officer to order the guys to fuck me. I don't care how many guys there are. I'll let him decide how many men I can take. And I'll take them all as long as he's there, either to hold me or oversee the fucking." Quinn looked at him incredulously. "I guess you don't understand that, huh?"

"Um...in all honesty, not really." Quinn murmured. "That's what the guys do here? Line up and fuck you? Is this what the naked weekends are about?" He found his chest tightening and his cock now rock hard at the image of Nick held down and fucked.

"Why? Turns you on? Wanna get in line?" Nick chuckled. "It's okay. Don't look so guilty. This is what I meant by ‘haven'. I need the sex, Quinn. I need to be fucked regularly. Every day. More than once." He looked at Quinn and grinned. "And yeah, I love it - the gangbang. This thing I have with Jax. I have everything I need here except one and if I never have that, if Staz just doesn't feel the way I do about him and never will, I still have Jax. And M31.

A mix of emotions went past Quinn, confusing him even more. He'd accepted he was gay but he still wasn't sure how to deal with the newness of it or with his undeniable need for Jax and now, his attraction to Nick. He felt jealousy that Jax and Nick had something going whilst he, wanting both men, was left out in the cold.

Quinn's chest tightened painfully. "Sounds like you really have it made here."

Nick glanced over at Quinn. "Jax and I may have this strange relationship but, believe me, his heart's lost to someone else. Have you and he -"

"No. We haven't."

Nick's eyes rounded. "You guys haven't fucked yet? You're shittin' me. He's wearing your hickeys like medals. Alex saw them last night and he was a little disapproving until Jax made some remark about you being a voracious little blood sucker underneath that butter-wouldn't-melt-in-my-mouth act. Alex told him to keep the evidence out of sight of the guests." His eyes narrowed slightly. "You really haven't? Why not?"

Quinn lifted a shoulder. "Not enough time. Wasn't the right time. I don't know." And he didn't know, either, how he'd feel about Jax and the rest fucking Nick. "If the whole gang gets to fuck you, do I get to as well?"

Nick grinned. "You're one of us now, aren't you?" He scooted closer. "You wanna fuck me, do you, Quinn  Masterson-Knight?"

Quinn licked his lips. "Yes. But not now." He gave a quick glance back at the house.

"Okay. How about a kiss as down payment, then?"

"That, I can do." He reached out and pulled Nick to him. He felt Nick smile knowingly against his mouth. Smug bastard.

Quinn deepened the kiss, to hell with the internal arguments. His hands swept down the strong shoulders, palmed the powerful pecs, teasing and pinching the hard, tiny nipples and caught the sharp intake of Nick's breath. He may be built more like a runner, with less bulk than Jax or himself but Quinn found himself marveling at the feel of the hard contours under his palms, the strength in his wide shoulders and oh yeah, that bubble butt that just begged to be bitten, to be spread wide and licked, lapped, sucked...fucked...

More surprising, it dawned on Quinn at that precise moment how Jax must feel about the younger man. Protective, because that was how he felt right there and then. He wanted to take care of Nick and fulfill those dark, deep needs of his. And do it _with_ Jax, not replace him.

He angled his head to get a better lock on Nick's lips, sucking the top lip then the bottom. He left no part of Nick's mouth unexplored as his tongue thrust and parried with Nick's. His hand had just gotten a good grip of Nick's cock - oh yeah, he was bigger than average when erect - when a lazy voice sounded, filled with amusement and - what? Not sure, but it jerked Quinn back from the sexual nirvana he was about to enter. He broke away from Nick and looked up.

"Well, well." Jax stood over them. "Looks like you've taken to our Nick already." He bent down and kissed Nick, his hand cupped around his jaw possessively. His gaze, though, remained on Quinn as he pulled away with a smile. "Be careful," he said softly to Quinn. "He's already taken."

Quinn got up and stood face to face with Jax. "That what you were doing last night, then? Taking him?"

Nick's hazel eyes danced with amusement but before he could say anything, there was a familiar bellow from the house. "Yo! Nick! You may be the Resident Slut but get that fucking ass of yours in here and gimme a hand!"

Nick said to Quinn, jerking his chin at Jax. "For God's sake, fuck him and put us all out of his misery." He sauntered off, grinning at the giant Cajun waiting at the edge of the terrace, arms akimbo.

Jax tossed a towel to Quinn and turned back towards the house. "I was referring to Staz, you know."

 


	22. PART TWO – Chapter  21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another undercover assignment calls Nick and Staz away. Quinn, uncertain of where he stands with Jax, treads tentatively. Meantime, Haslinger has taken the bait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although I chose not to put Nick’s mission on-page, it is loosely based on Operation Jaque, the real life rescue of Ingrid Betancourt who, along with three US defence contractors and 11 Colombian soldiers and police, were freed in southwestern Guaviare province on July 2, 2008. Intelligence agents infiltrated the guerrillas' leadership and led the commander in charge of the hostages, Cesar, to think they were to be taken by helicopter to Alfonso Cano, the Farc's supreme leader.

"You gonna fuck every damn ass you come across?" Staz demanded.

Jax was right, Quinn mused. Nick was taken alright.

"Why do you care?" Nick shot back at Staz. Jax gave him a warning glance. He was used to their squabbling but lately, a different note had crept into their arguments.

"You're not my babysitter, Cajun." Nick went around the large island where Staz was stuffing half a dozen chickens and wrapped his arms around the giant's waist. "Ooh, man. Seeing you fisting that chicken gives me the shivers."

Staz tried to shake him off but Nick held on fast. "Get the fuck away if you can't make yourself useful." Staz growled. Quinn stood there, watching Nick's hand find its way down Staz's waist to his shorts. Like Jax, Staz was clothed, weekend dress code notwithstanding. Must be because of the movers who were expected any time now.

Nick chuckled and nuzzled Staz's shoulder. "Imagine that chicken's me, Staz. Imagine fisting me. I can take it, you know that, don't you? Just like I can take that massive cock of yours." He reached down to cup Staz but the Cajun turned and with a another loud bellow, he whacked the chicken - still with his hand in it - at Nick's head. Stuffing, herbs and chicken went flying everywhere.

"Shit!" Nick jumped back but the chicken had caught him on the cheek and he face was smeared with oregano, breadcrumbs and another half dozen herbs and spices. Staz gave him another whack with the chicken. One more whack caught him squarely in his chest. Nick ran off and Staz thrust the abused fowl from his hand and threw it in the sink before going after Nick.

As the two men ran out of the house onto the terrace, Quinn picked up the chicken.

"What are you doing?" Jax asked, as Quinn reached for the pair of kitchen scissors hanging off a hook.

"There are six chickens here. I'm cutting off a wing tip so I can recognize this bird at the dinner table. There's no way I'm eating it."

"Good idea." Jax grinned. "So...how long you think it'll take before they're fucking their brains out?"

Quinn threw the wing tip in the trash bin and washed the scissors. "He's waited thirteen years, Jax. Has it occurred to you Staz is straight?"

"Sometimes we don't want to face certain truths."

Quinn turned to him. "And when we finally do?"

"We beat ourselves over the lost thirteen years."

"Does it take that long to realize you're in love with someone?" Quinn asked, giving Jax a quizzical look.

"Of course not. I only just met you a week ago."

* * * * *

Who the fuck ate in the nude? Maybe in a nudist colony but in your own home? With other people? Quinn gave himself a mental shrug. Maybe he was just a small-town boy from Michigan but thankfully, the dining table didn't have a glass top so nobody's genitals were visible under their plates of food. The image of Staz fisting the chicken followed by him fisting Nick would have been an appetite suppressant if not for his own fantasies of Nick. First day with the team and he felt like he was on acid.

He laid the table as Jax cut up the chickens and put the pieces on cheeseboards for him to bring to the table. Someone else brought the gravy and another brought the vegetables. Adam turned on the TV and in a matter of seconds, the chatter of the men competed with the newscaster.

It was pandemonium to Quinn. Dinner for him was usually a solitary affair. If he was on an assignment and was with company, dinner wasn't so much about dining as giving the impression of eating while he did the intel-gathering. When he wasn't on an assignment, he ate alone with just his thoughts or the TV for company - except when Dante or Rico were around, which wasn't all that often.

"Here, Jekyll." Nick passed the salad to Jordan.

"Hey, thanks! I'm starved." Jordan loaded the plate up with roasted potatoes, pumpkin and string beans. "Gravy, Hekyll?" Hayden nodded and Quinn watched fascinated as Jordan poured gravy over Hayden's food before passing the gravy boat to Staz.

The food was great but Quinn was too caught up with the whole ambience to really appreciate Staz's culinary skills. While everyone else either watched TV and talked over their heads, he processed this new experience as if it were another unit in his training course. It was a bit of a shock but it was alright. Maybe he could get used to this.

Maybe he shouldn't.

There was a loose roster of sorts, Quinn discovered. Everyone except Staz did the washing up whenever they ate in, taking turns each. Staz was the resident chef. _Just as Nick was the resident slut?_ He saw Staz place another piece of chicken on Nick's plate and pour the chicken au jus on it. He heard Nick's soft ‘thanks'. That little scene in the midst of the noise was more telling than any explanation he could have been given.

Quinn also found out two teams from the cleaning service, overseen by Baxter from Jax's office, came in twice a week. One team handled the general cleaning and laundry and the second team cleaned the private quarters and put away the clothes. Baxter kept the toiletries and household items replenished. That was a relief. He was a bit of a neat freak himself and hated dirty clothes and dishes left lying around. He also learnt that Jax took the trash out every night when he was home but if he wasn't, it was everyone's responsibility.

All this Quinn learnt as they ate and conversation flowed easily and noisily. Quinn asked if they ate this way every weekend.

"Unh-unh," Hayden shook his head, shoving a forkful of chicken in his mouth. "Depends. When the chef's not in," he jabbed a thumb in Staz's direction. "It's either chicken salad - that's the chicken leftover from lunch or the night before or we throw some steaks on the barbecue. Lots of protein and lots of fibre, too. Carbs only once a week on weekends like tonight, three times during the week but not for dinner."

"But we drink every weekend." Jordan added, passing the platter of roast potatoes to Quinn. "Don't worry, we work it off seven days a week. Tomorrow, at oh-eight hundred, get your ass down to the gym. Nick in spandex is a good test of your cardiovascular function."

Quinn's fork paused on its way to his mouth as Jordan leaned in to give Nick a quick kiss on the lips. He stole a glance at Staz then around the table. Staz was laughing at something Adam said and no one seemed to think Jordan kissing Nick in the middle of dinner was odd. Hayden, who was sitting on the other side of Nick, suddenly hauled the younger man by the back of the neck and kissed him long and noisily.

‘That ass is mine tonight." Adam declared as he speared a roast potato.

"Get in line, Montgomery." Jax laughed.

Obviously, Quinn said to himself as he had a second helping, the word's out about Nick.

* * * * *

The dinner table had just been cleared when a call came in on Nick's KnightFone. A short conversation ensued after which Nick informed Jax he was flying off to Colombia with Chaz's team at dawn and need to leave in a short while for the debriefing.

"Hey! What about my fuck? I was going to christen the couches." Adam yelled out from the other side of the lounge. The furniture store had delivered the lounge suites -  three, _three!_ sets of L-shaped suites with movable pieces and two large day beds for the pool patio.

"Sorry, amigo."Nick grinned. "You'll have to wait till I get back."

Three Americans and six Department of Defense contractors had been abducted two years ago and were still held by FARC rebels in the Guaviare province. One of them was the daughter of a US senator. Twenty-five million dollars had been demanded but as the negotiation continued, a sting operation had been planned.  Now, after twenty-three months, it was, hopefully, about to end.

"That was Chad." Nick told Jax, bringing Staz into the conversation with a glance. "Operation Esmeralda is on. We're going in. Rohan's swinging by to pick us up in an hour." His eyes flicked to Staz who had been designated the helo pilot. For almost two years, aside from Operation Sirin, the two men had been waiting for this call. Now that it had come, Nick felt the burst of adrenalin, spiking the tension that had already been there after his confrontation with Staz earlier. The earlier teasing had almost ended in blows and Nick could only be glad Jax wasn't there to witness it. Thankfully, it had eased off at dinner. Easygoing as he was, Jax didn't tolerate anything coming between the team members and the last thing Nick wanted was to blow his chances with Staz with both of them being reprimanded by their CO. Thank God he had Esmeralda to take the edge off and force him to focus on something other than Vincent Stanislaus.

* * * * *

Guaviare. The FARC stronghold. Quinn tensed as Nick updated the team with the latest developments. He was familiar enough with the CIA's activities in Colombia, many of them FARC-related and those guys, despite their primitive equipment, were still a force to be reckoned with.

Nick was the mission leader here to get the hostages on board the helo, supposedly to be taken to Antonio Ramora, another rebel leader, whose hideout was in Cauca.

"Estaban fell for it." Nick told them. "We'll be going in and I'll lead the hostages out to the helo that Staz will be flying." He looked at Staz, "you'll be flying us to a military camp where a plane will be waiting to get us all back to the US." He turned back to the others. "There'll be three others from Chad's team and the informant from Antonio's faction - without whom we wouldn't be able to do this - will be with me in case Estaban asks questions I can't answer. Estaban thinks I'm taking the hostages to Ramora and that I'm one of his trusted lieutenants. If Estaban asks me questions I can't answer but should, our informant will step in to help me out. I need to make sure Estaban doesn't suspect anything and will let the hostages board the helo without undue delay. Every second counts in an op like this."

"How did we secure this informant's co-operation?" Quinn asked.

"His family members, including members of his extended family and in-laws, are already safely in the US. New identities. US passports. A hefty reward was credited into his account. When he fulfills his obligation, the passports and funds will be handed over." Nick gave Staz a few more details, the detailed debriefing left until Rohan picked them up. "The Colombian government will deny any ransom was paid - which is correct, of course, and the US will, likewise, deny paying anyone anything. The information given in return for the cash is sufficient for us to launch some strategic attacks on the FARC rebel camps."

Jax nodded when Nick wrapped up his report. While he'd wound down his non-Firebird assignments, Nick and Staz had still been fairly active, with only a week or two in between assignments, at most. They were both in need of some serious downtime. "You should be back by the end of the week." He told them.

"With the hostages." Nick added.

"With or without them, both of you are taking leave when you get back." Jax said.

"You'd better get back in one piece," Quinn said to the Cajun. "I want to try that Gumbo you've been telling me about."

Staz gave him a slap on the back. "I'll be baa-ack." He mimicked Shwarzeneggar.

Nick wasn't so certain. If he got back, it would be with the hostages, for sure. But if he couldn't get the hostages to the helo then he could kiss his ass goodbye for good.

The impending mission dissipated the earlier lighthearted mood and the two men huddled together going through their strategy with Jax. Still naked. Quinn shook his head and returned to his room.

* * * * *

After Nick and Staz left with Rohan, Quinn decided to go for a leisurely swim since he didn't get much of one earlier. If that was how Nick could affect him, he hoped he wouldn't run into him - or Jax - too much at work. He couldn't see how he'd get through the week lusting after two colleagues, one of them his superior.

Caught up with his own thoughts, he didn't notice the orange flare of a cigar being sucked, or the lone figure on the sun bed watching him in the dark. Quinn cleared three lengths of the pool before wading to the pool edge overlooking the Pacific. It was a full moon night and a light breeze brought the scent of Magnolia to his nostrils. He'd start working on the landscaping requirements tomorrow and give Don, Artistree's project manager a call. His thoughts segued over to his present situation, not least his ultra high-tech, luxurious abode. Jax's home had no gold fittings, no ornate furniture or pricey objets d'art. Even the paintings had been left behind in the apartment but the house itself was designed like an expensive but understated tropical resort, complete with thatched roofs and lots of timber and glass. He could get used to these living conditions for sure - his laundry washed, ironed and put away, toilet cleaned (he hated that more than any other chore) and there was even home-cooked meals on weekends. Like all of life, there had to be a catch and Quinn was damned sure it came in the form of Jax Theron. Hell, add Nick if what happened earlier was anything to go by.

Two hands clamped down on his shoulder, startling him into a defensive stance before realizing who it was. Quinn turned, shrugging Jax off. The underwater lights lit up their nakedness and Quinn groaned inwardly. There was only so much a man could take and while it would be easy for him to make his move on Jax, his innate insecurity made him reluctant to make the first move. But there had to be a first time, didn't it?

He watched as Jax moved to stand next to him, propping his forearms on the edge and looking out at the moonlight shimmering over the dark waters of the ocean. Jax turned, kicking up his legs so he could lay half-submerged, his face looking towards the horizon. The powerful shoulders rippled from the reflection of the lit pool and Quinn was assailed with a sudden wave of images of another similar scene. He squeezed his eyes shut and clung to the edge for support, slightly dizzy from another burst of déjà vu but unable to hold on to the faint images on the periphery of his mind long enough to get a fix.

"What's wrong?" Jax asked as Quinn made a frustrated sound. He moved close enough for their bodies to touch. "You alright?" Jax asked again, his hand reaching out to touch Quinn's shoulder.

"Yeah. I'm fine." Quinn replied, rubbing his eyes. "Just had a flashback. Too brief to be of any help and may not even be connected to my missing week."

"It'll come back," Jax said. "We've dealt with enough amnesia cases to know anything can trigger a return." He paused. "And if your memories remain buried - " he paused again. "You're in a safe place now where you can focus on creating new ones."

Quinn looked at Jax, a slight frown on his brow as he wondered what brought on the sudden regard for his welfare. Despite the easy, convivial evening they'd spent at Alex's house on Monday night, Quinn still wasn't used to anything but being on his guard where Jax was concerned. Add the attraction Quinn couldn't deny and his fear and apprehension went up several notches. There was also something about swimming at night that was both sensual and erotic as the water swirled around their naked bodies. Somehow, it lured you to touch and caress, to need the feel of wet skin sliding against wet skin.

"You didn't tell me you got pulled off the training exercise," Jax said after awhile.

"'was nothing. I got back in as soon as MediCom gave the all-clear."

"Still, I'd like to know next time." Jax told him. "I am responsible for your welfare, your progress, everything about you."

"Since when?" Quinn asked. He meant it literally and seriously but it came out peevish and immature to his own ears.

"Since Alex made it clear he'd have my balls if I screwed up again. With you, that is. At the risk of sounding immodest, I don't screw up anywhere else or with anyone else."

Quinn snorted. "Looks like I need to have a talk with Daddy Dearest." He let his gaze rest on Jax, the features on the handsome face softly visible under the full moon. "He can't suddenly start playing Mommy with me. I can look after myself. Even around you." _Famous last words, indeed._

When Jax saw the hand reaching out to pull him in, he went more than willingly. As if he had been anticipating this moment. As if only this man could give The Kiss and like that lucky sonofabitch in the fairy tale, he'd wake up the next morning and find he was no longer a frog. Or a firebird, in Jax's case. He gave himself up to the kiss, even as a frisson of uncertainty shivered through him. This was different yet familiar. This man was a stranger yet Jax felt as if they'd met somewhere. In another time, another place. Another life. He felt the tightly-held control slipping away from him and for the first time, Jax Theron was afraid of going further.

But it was too late for that. He felt himself sucked into a vortex of desire and need as Quinn increased the intensity of the kiss. With a soft moan, Quinn grabbed Jax's head with both hands, pushing his groin forward and feeling the hard stabs of their cocks against each other. Backing Jax against the pool wall, Quinn deepened the kiss, his tongue dueling with Jax's in a desperate battle for dominance though Jax had long surrendered. He wanted Quinn and needed him. Needed to feel that big, hard cock in him. Wanted to give him what he'd not given any man before.

"Fuck." The expletive hissed from Jax's lips. "Fuck you, Quinn."

Quinn's lips twitched against Jax's. Nope, didn't sound at all like begging at all. "What do you -" He never got to finish his question. A shout broke them apart and they looked up to see Adam running out to them with the KnightFone.

"Jax. You need to take this."

* * * * *

Jax climbed out of the pool and took the customized phone from Adam, glancing at the caller ID. He switched it to speaker and tabbed the button to record. "Good evening, John."

"Good evening, Jax." Haslinger greeted him. "I hope it's not too late to call."

"No, not at all. How are you?" Jax took the towel Quinn handed to him and dried his face as they went back into the house.

"Ask me again on Monday." Haslinger's wry tone carried over the line. "Susan organized a party for the children's charity tomorrow. She's the chairperson. Guess where it's being held."

Jax chuckled. "I'm sure the kids will love it." The Haslingers had a huge ranch at the foot of the Santa Rosas and John often spent his weekends there, according to Justin, Jax's father. "Justin sends his regards. I was on the phone with him earlier today. He asked if you received the invitation to Caspar's birthday bash next Saturday."

"Yes I did," Haslinger replied. "I'll give him a call in the morning."

"So, what can I do for you, John?" Jax asked as he sat down.

"You were telling me about your new venture last Friday," Haslinger paused as if to gauge Jax's response.

"Yes. Interested in something?" Jax glanced at the men who were listening intently to the conversation.

"Not me, personally, but I have a contact who might be."

"Give me his contact details. I'll take it from there."

"Unfortunately, he wants to deal directly with the seller." Haslinger said.

"Then I'll have to speak to my client. I can't promise anything but you could give me a little more with which to persuade my client to make an exception."

"What I can tell you now is that if my contact likes what he sees, he'll want to close the deal there and then. And," he paused for effect. "He'll want immediate possession."

"In which case, my client will need some kind of guarantee of payment."

"You have mine."

"Good enough." Jax responded without hesitation. "I'll send you an inventory in the next thirty minutes." He rung off and turned to the four men. "We got a bite."

Back in his study, Jax sent the list off to Haslinger then called him back fifteen minutes later. "Hi John. I spoke to my client. Give me your contact's number." He wrote it down even though the call was recorded. "Tell your contact my client, will call him within the hour."

He was running a check on Haslinger's contact when Hekyll and Jekyll walked in. "Haslinger's contact is a Swiss named Anton Kapelle." None of them had heard of him.

"Do we need to recall Nick or Staz?" Jordan asked. "Not too late."

"No." Jax replied. "Alex suggested I bring Quinn in. Said he was fidgety. This assignment should distract him while we look for his friend."

"But he doesn't have top-level clearance," Hayden said. Meaning as far as the Firebird was concerned, Quinn was strictly on Need-To-Know. "He can't know that Luis is you. How are you going to keep them apart?"

"I can't." Jax replied, his voice clipped. "That's what I told Alex. He said I'll figure something out." Jax didn't look too happy about that and the other two men could understand Jax's reluctance to involve Quinn. Jax suspected Alex was playing hardball and forcing Jax to confront the problem - Luis needed to go but Jax had been hanging on. If Jax came face to face with the impossibility of continuing with this charade, Jax would do something about getting rid of Luis faster. Alex had gone along with the undercover ID as a necessity but when it stretched to several years and saw the consequences, he wanted Luis out of the picture.

"He'd have to know eventually, anyway, wouldn't he?" Jordan asked. "I mean we're just following SOP here but how long are you planning to keep him out of the loop on this one?"

Jax shook his head. "Firebird remains classified indefinitely, even after the White Phoenix is dismantled." He scrubbed a hand down his face and started pacing. "We're close to getting this mission wrapped up. Very close. I can feel it. Sure, the time might come when we can't avoid them meeting but even then, all Quinn will know is that an Argentinean named Luis d'Aragon is the Firebird. Now, Luis needs to make a call," he said, putting on the phone's headset. "Keep Quinn occupied until I come back down."

"You're expecting him to come looking for you in your bedroom?" Hayden asked, brows lifting. "Wow. Didn't think you'd gotten that far this soon. He's just moved in today. Though those," he looked at Jax's neck as he tapped his own, "show he's gotten past first base."

"Get him out of here, Jekyll." Jax growled. Absently, he touched the bruises on his neck. "Damn." He pressed the button embedded near his Adam's apple to activate Luis' voice and punched Kapelle's number.

* * * * *

 "I'll meet Anton Kapelle two days from now in Tangier." Jax told the men seated with him at the dinner table. "He'll be wearing a green beret and using an HP TouchSmart. Rota has been alerted and will be ready once they get my go-ahead." He looked at Quinn who was seated opposite him. "You'll be coming with me." Quinn perked up at that. "The meeting is scheduled for nine hundred hours Tuesday at the Gran Cafe de Paris." Jax told him. "Our objective is to sell Vulcan-1 to Kapelle. Luigi Mendoza and his team will be working this with us. We leave for Rota tomorrow morning and ETA at Rota is eight hundred Monday. We'll look in on Admiral Clark and make sure V-1 is ready for the move to Tangier.

"Then you and I," he said to Quinn, "will hop across to Tangier. Spend the night and in the morning, we split up. I'll meet Kapelle and you take the vehicle and head for the Tangier-Med port. Luigi and his team will be escorting the V-1 from Rota. ETA seven hundred hours. Meet them and stay with V-1 until further instructions from me. We'll be in contact throughout. Once I give the go-ahead and tell you where the transfer to Kapelle is to take place, you accompany the cargo. Apart from us and the Admiral, Luigi‘s the only one who knows what's in the crates. The rest know it's classified and they are to make sure it's safe. We'll do an inventory check when we get into Rota, seal the crates and you make sure no one touches them between Rota and the transfer point. Kapelle hasn't shown up on our radar until now but he's the one the White Phoenix's sending so he's got to have some clout. In any case, we're going to make the most of that contact."

"Are we expecting any problems?" Quinn asked.

"Naturally." Jax replied. "So if you don't get a call from me within two hours of my meeting Kapelle, it's an abort. You go back to Rota with V-1 and wait for me. I'll call in as soon as I can."

"And if you don't by the end of the day, I'm going looking for you, right?" Quinn asked.

"No. You call in to Alex and get the hell out of Dodge. You got that?"

Quinn squinted as if concentrating. "At the first sign of trouble, I hightail it out of Tangier back to Rota with the goodies, call Daddy and tell him to get me outta there, never mind that I left my CO behind who's likely injured or dead. Yeah, I got that."

"Cut out the smart-ass talk, Masterson." Jax growled. "Do you copy?"

"Yes, I copy."

Jax stood up to go. "I've got to update Alex." He looked at Hekyll and Jekyll. "Then we'll head down to the warehouse for the inventory check."

By the time Jax returned with Hekyll and Jekyll, it was close to five in the morning. He was tired from testing the microchips and smelling of gun oil from checking the weapons. They'd be leaving for the airport at seven in the morning because they needed to make a stopover at Paris to unload some KnightShade executives before continuing on to Rota. He'd grab his sleep on the flight.

 


	23. PART TWO – Chapter  22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Operation Sirin is underway so a little more time is needed before our two boys get to play. That'll happen in the next chapter. For now, Jax and Quinn will have their hands full in Tangier, Morocco. Quinn may not be James Bond material but the man can make himself useful when he wants to. As Jax will soon find out.

_Tangier, Morocco_

At the crossroads of civilization, where the Mediterranean meets the Atlantic and magic moves with mystery, Tangier beckons and lures. She flaunts her magnificent bay as history rushes down to meet its shores, beguiling even the most jaded of senses.

The visitor, whether friend or foe, is transported to a time when wizards and knights were born and adventure awaited even the humblest of men.

From the Place de la Kasbah, the highest point in the medina, tourists throng the sultan's palace where every aspect of Moroccan art draws sighs of wonder from its admirers. Both backpackers and businessmen stroll down alleyways of the medina to the terrace overlooking the straits of Gibraltar or to Cape Spartel, the extreme north-westerly point of Africa. For both, Tangier will never lose her allure or her propensity to serve violence and danger along with couscous and kif.

The man who made his way swiftly through the narrow lanes had tasted both. And lived through the one to enjoy the other. Considering the business he came to Tangier and the other exotic hotspots in Morocco to conduct, his ability to survive was not to be dismissed as mere luck. He wasn't so sure of his companion, though. Whatever he'd done, wherever he'd been, the CIA had not brought Quinn Masterson to this part of the world, judging from the fascination on the man's face. Perhaps it was a mistake to have brought him. Despite his experience with the Agency, Quinn Masterson had a lifetime to catch up before he was in Jax's league. God willing, he never would have to.

Brushing past the early evening crowd and extricating his arm from insistent little ones clamoring for a handout, Jax moved with a speed and agility that made the canny, old men shuffle aside for him. The young men eyed him warily even though dangerous men like him inhabited Tangier like fleas on a stray. Next to him, Quinn, spellbound as he was, kept up the pace. He understood Quinn's reaction to Tangier. A part of him wanted to protect the yet-untarnished part of Alex's son. He didn't know what made Quinn get into the spook business in the first place since Alex was obviously not an influence and Jax couldn't help wishing Quinn would get out while he could. Go back to the tree house design business which he was obviously passionate about, something Jax knew Quinn couldn't say about spook work.

They had arrived in Rota ahead of schedule and met briefly with Admiral Clark who was the area coordinator for all US Naval shore activities in Spain. Immediately after that, the two men completed an inventory of V-1, re-securing the crates with white tape emblazoned with large red crosses.

"As far as everyone else is concerned," Jax had said to Quinn as they did the final lot. "The vessel will be transporting humanitarian aid to the Canary Islands. The transfer will take place somewhere in the area, according to Kapelle, but we won't know the exact location until I meet with him."

Jax stood, looking on as the men of the USS Mesa Azul loaded V-1, packed in metal crates camouflaged with humanitarian aid outer packaging, large red crosses marking them onto the vessel. The naval ship would be accompanying the huge cargo ship as soon as Luigi got the okay from Jax.

* * * * *

Jax left the congested, noisy suq and went down a narrow lane flanked by high walls with wooden shutters letting in the breeze. Old ladies, their faces deeply-lined by the rivers of life, watched him and his companion from the windows as they sorted spices and watched over the children. The aroma of delicious Moroccan stews wafted down and lured Jax's senses with the power of a beautiful woman bent on seduction.

As always, he made sure whatever hunger he had was fed before it could be used against him. Yet, he was aware of his growing need for the man just a step or two behind him. When there was space, Quinn would move up so that their arms brushed. A time or two, he'd reached out to stop from colliding with Jax when the other pedestrians crowded them. Jax felt his body seethe with the heat of Quinn's touch. But that would have to wait. If there was still any lingering doubt he needed this man the way a fish needed water, Saturday night in the pool made it impossible to deny. All he needed to do here and now was make sure Luis and V-1 did their jobs then they could take a little R & R in Tangier. Show him what William S, Burroughs, Jack Kerouac and Paul Bowles found so fascinating.

He emerged onto a dusty road that hugged the edge of the ancient coastline. Laughing children perched on the low wall where the slope fell away steeply into the Bay of Tangier below. Striding down the road, he stopped at a building with masses of brilliant bougainvillea spilling over its walls.

"This is it?" Quinn asked, looking up at the four-story building of white-washed squares stuck together haphazardly. The black iron-wrought grilles reminded Quinn of the houses in the New Orleans French Quarter. The eclectic mix of French, Spanish and Moorish-influenced architecture intrigued him.

"This is it." Jax confirmed.

"We're staying here?"

"Yes. Ace is a good friend and one of my contacts. We'll stay the night and move to a hotel after I've met with Kapelle."

He banged the brass ring on the door and waited. Like the other doors and windows of the house, the gates were aged wood, framed and decorated with brass.

It took awhile and more banging before a loud scrape sounded and the gates opened with an angry creak. The mustachioed face inside broke into a grin when he saw his visitors.

"Bon jour, Monsieur Jax!" The man greeted him pronouncing his name ‘Jacques'.  "Ahlan wa Saalan el Tanja. Bienvenue à mon palais." Another big smile split the tanned face.

"Bon jour, Asadel." Jax greeted back.

Asadel slapped both palms on Jax's shoulders then kissed him on the right cheek, then left, then back on the right. "Ash khbarak?"

"Same old, same old." Jax replied. "As-salam ‘alaykum, mon ami."  He touched his heart with his right hand and grinned at his Moroccan friend, unperturbed by his own deliberate mix of Morocco's two major spoken languages. "My friend, Quinn," he introduced. "Quinn, Asadel al-Amin. A most trusted friend."

"Wa alaykum as-salam." Asadel showed Quinn a mouthful of perfect whites. "I am Asadel. You may call me Ace for short."

 _Ace?_ Quinn smiled back, stealing an amused glance at Jax.

"It sounds better than ‘Ass.'" Asadel's expression was bland. "But Jacques insists on calling me Asadel. It means "Most Prosperous One'." He broke into another face-splitting grin.

"Then so will I." Quinn responded. "Pleased to meet you, Asadel. Quinn Masterson-Knight." He made the traditional Arab right-hand-to-the-heart greeting, bowing slightly.

"Ah! Tarzan!" Asadel forewent the traditional Arabic greeting and grabbed Quinn's hand, pumping it enthusiastically. "An honor to meet you! Jacques told me about you."

"Tarzan?"  Quinn tensed.

"You live in a tree house, no?"

"No, I don't, actually." Quinn replied, worried for a moment there, that Ace was using Dante's codename for him. 

"I design and build them but I don't live in them." Quinn corrected. "I take it Jacques, I mean _Jax_ told you what I did...um do...for a living." He glanced at Jax again.

"I called Asadel to let him know I was bringing a friend." Jax said to Quinn. "Naturally, he was curious who I was bringing -"

"He has never brought anyone here." Asadel told Quinn with a conspiratorial wink. "You must be special."

"This is work-related, Ass."

" _Ace_." Asadel growled back but gave Quinn another wink. "The last time he was here was for work, too, and he brought a colleague who was checked into a hotel. I did not even get to meet him but you, he told me you were not just a colleague." Asadel gave Quinn a pointed look.

"Asadel al-Amin." Jax called out from behind their host and shook his head.

Laughing, Asadel led them through to a large sunlit courtyard with an elaborate fountain in the centre and through to another, much larger inner room which Quinn realized was a solarium. Here, ornately inlaid columns rose from the tiled floor to the extra high ceiling where the second story overlooked the lush courtyard. Huge palms, fountains and greenery turned the atrium into an oasis. Ultramarine blue cushions were scattered on day beds. House servants stood unobtrusively in the corners, waiting to be summoned.

Quinn looked up when voices sounded from the upper level.

"My wife has relatives visiting," Asadel said. "But you're not here on a social visit and they're all females. Her relatives are not very sociable so they won't disturb us. Come to think of it, mine are not either."

Jax's eyes flicked up to one of the windows above where a pair of inquisitive faces were peering from behind a curtain. He waved to them. He passed Ace the paper bag he'd brought with him on board the ferry. "For your twins."

"Shukran." Ace took it from him.

"Afwan."

 "I won't bring it out or they will forget their shyness and come rushing down. Now, I am sure you want to go up to your room first."

"Thank you, we'll be staying one night." Jax told him. "If we need more, I'll call and let you know."

The guest suite comprised of two bedrooms with en suite and a small sitting room. No different from any hotel and furnished in a mix style of Moorish and Spanish colonial. Quinn dropped his overnight bag on the hand-painted Moroccan chest at the foot of the bed. The call of the muezzin to prayer drew him to the window. It was just after sunset, about seventeen thirty hours and night had yet to fall upon the city. Two hours later, the muezzin would sound again but for now, the fragrance of spice and incense was sufficient for Quinn to know he was in a completely different world from California.

He was just going in the bathroom when Jax knocked on the bedroom door, calling out to him. Quinn opened it, a towel wrapped around his waist.

Jax looked at the towel and smiled. "Come on down when you're ready."

"Give me fifteen."

"Actually," Jax said, grinning. "I'm about to take a shower myself. Wanna save Ace some water?"

Quinn snorted. "Don't start what you don't have time to finish, Jacques."

* * * * *

At nine hundred hours the next morning as Quinn was on his way to Tanger-Med, Jax checked into the Continental Hotel. Since V-1 had been moved to Rota a year ago, they'd kept a room in the hotel on a long-term lease, as they did with several cities around they world. Sometimes, it was an apartment, as in Asia, and sometimes a house, as in Australia. Cheap but conveniently located right in the heart of the Medina, The Continental was ideal for Jax to do his switch to Luis.

Jax shut the door to his room and started the transformation to Luis d'Aragon, thinking about last night as he worked. How much resolve it took to say goodnight to his host and Quinn and return to his room. And stay there. He'd thought Quinn might seek him out but when an hour passed and there was no knock on his door, he'd turned out the light and tried to sleep.

Something about Quinn, about this whole set-up, made him react differently. Ordinarily, he would have made the first move within minutes of meeting. No angst, no after-thoughts. No aftermath. But not with this man. For some inexplicable reason he wanted - no, needed! - Quinn to take charge and decide where they were going to go in this relationship. Not that there was much of one. Just a couple of kisses. As for the Southern Hole incident, he wasn't even going there.

Jax finished up his transformation to Luis, checked in the mirror that everything was in place - the scar down his cheek, the jagged ‘flesh' closing up his injured eye. Wearing the eye-patch, the custom-made contact lens to change his remaining eye from blue to golden brown and then the ears. Only amateurs forgot to disguise the ears though in Luis' case, his longish hair often kept his hidden.

And finally, from Hayden's bag of tricks, the voice transformer and the pièce de résistance - the Firebird tattoo.

Quinn was already at the Tanger-Med port, about forty kilometers away, waiting for V-1. Getting Quinn out of the way so that he wouldn't see it wasn't Jax meeting with Kapelle hadn't been difficult and he hoped it stayed that way.

* * * * *

Luis waited across the street from the Gran Café de Paris until he saw Anton Kapelle, wearing his green beret, take a seat at one of the outdoor tables and take out a laptop from its bag. An HPTouchSmart.

"Buenos Dias, Senor Kapelle." Luis greeted him and pulled out the chair opposite without waiting for Kapelle's nod.

"Good morning, Senor d'Aragon." The Swede inclined his head.

Luis ordered two capuccinos when a waiter passed by and sat back.

"What do you have?" Kapelle asked.

"A helicopter is ready to take you for an inspection once we agree on the price." Luis recounted the terms voiced during their conversation back in San Diego. "I am ready to transfer as soon as you confirm the payment. How soon you take possession depends on how far away your vessel is from mine."

"Don't worry, I told you it will be in Morocco." Kapelle said. "First, we have coffee then I tell you the exact location after I am satisfied with your goods."

So coffee it was first, and in silence, because Kapelle refused to engage in small-talk either which suited Luis fine.

His cup empty several minutes later, Kapelle broke the silence by remarking that the capuccino was still as good as he remembered.

Luis, taking it from there, said, "I am impressed by your superiors." He saw the slight shift in Kapelle's eyes. "Very few people have the ability to reach my supplier direct, much less know who he is. You can be certain, though, that your bosses will be satisfied. My supplier only deals in the best, with the best." He placed his empty cup down. "Ready?"

* * * * *

It didn't take long for the negotiations as most of it had been done over the phone already. Kapelle merely haggled for the sake of it until Luis waved his hand in exasperation. "We may be in Tangier, my man, but I'm not selling you a tourist trinket. I have agreed on immediate transfer without even seeing a cent in my bank account. One minute more and this meeting will be an insult."

Kapelle gave a curt nod. "My apologies, Senor d'Aragon." He stood up, throwing some euros on the table. "Shall we?"

"Excellent," Luis said. "Let me call for the car."

"I have mine. I will follow you."

That worked out well as it would enable Jax to call Quinn without worrying about being overheard by Kapelle and speaking with a completely different voice.

"Hey, it's me." Jax said after Quinn answered his call. "Everything in order?"

"Yep. It's all here. I ticked each crate off, all seals intact. How about your end?"

"Kapelle's on his way to you. There's a guy with him. Luis d'Aragon. Accompany them on the helo to the test range and bring whatever Kapelle selects for the test. I told him no more than five or six weapons from the green-labeled crates. He can inspect the red crates' contents but no testing. He'll blow you to Mars if he does."

"You won't be coming with him?"

"Um no -  they don't want me there. Wants to check and test without me interfering with his concentration." The lie came smooth and naturally and he hoped Quinn didn't notice the slight hesitation.

"Who's this Luis guy?"

"Some go-between or business associate of Kapelle. Don't talk to him unless he addresses you first." Jax paused. "And as far as Kapelle is concerned, you don't know Jax Theron. You're just delivering the goods."

"Okay, got that," Quinn said. "I'm just the delivery guy; don't talk to Luis unless he talks to me and I don't know you."

"After the test, take them back to the port and wait for my call."

* * * * *

Ten minutes after the call, Quinn watched the black sedan pull up to the carpark and another silver Beemer following behind. A suit got out of the black sedan with his driver standing by the driver's side. Quinn's eyes narrowed as the Beemer came to a stop next to the sedan and a tall, broad-shouldered man with an eye-patch got out.

He gestured to Luigi and they walked towards Kapelle and d'Aragon. "Good day, gentleman. I'm Quinn and this is Luigi."

"Kapelle." The short man introduced himself.

"Luis." The guy with the eye-patch held out his hand. Quinn took it and felt that odd, unsettling feeling come over him. Luis didn't even look at him but gave a brief handshake, turning aside to survey the area even before he retracted his hand.

"If you would follow us, gentlemen," Quinn told Kapelle, ignoring the strange vibes from the other man. "We will take you to the cargo." He gave the taller man a glance. Where had he seen him before? "We have transported a selection for you to test." he told Kapelle. "I was told you were already given the inventory. We've been through all the crates and everything's is in order. Once it's being transferred,  your men will, I assume, be on hand to ensure it's all there.

Kapelle nodded. "I know every piece we pay for will be there. After all, we are dealing with the Firebird, are we not?" He looked pointedly at Luis.

Quinn's glance shot to Luis. The Firebird? Was Kapelle referring to Luis?  Without warning, the image appeared. A man. With a pair of handcuffs dangling from his fingers. Quinn didn't - couldn't - see his face but knew there was something distinctive about it. The flashback almost made him stumble with its vividness, the most intense so far.

His AOR did not cover arms dealing or the geographic areas the Firebird was known to operate within but he had the distinct feeling he'd heard the name in connection with something else he was involved in...but what?  He'd get an update from Alex when he got back and let him know about the recent flashes of subconscious recognition. Jax hadn't said anything about Luis being the infamous arms trader but it was certainly possible. He'd ask him later, filing that away. Right now, he needed to get back his equilibrium and shake off the disturbing feelings the Argentinean evoked.

He led Kapelle to the crates he'd been told to set aside for Kapelle's inspection and the Swede pointed to one of the larger ones. "This one." Quinn and Luigi opened it up partially. Enough to reveal the Hellfire missiles inside. Quinn wondered who would be supplying the Apaches needed to fire those missiles.

"Now, that one." Kapelle pointed to another crate, apparently satisfied with the first. He checked the rest which yielded assault rifles - M16s, M4 carbines and one which Quinn had never seen before. The last two crates contained submachine guns and M203 grenade launchers.

"Mr. Kapelle," Quinn said to the Swede, including Luis with a glance. "The chopper is ready to take you for a test of the weapons. Unfortunately, only the rifles can be taken."

"Yes. Yes. We have already covered that ground," Kapelle said, testily. "The previous shipment did not disappoint and we were assured these missiles are even better."

Luigi and his men had already prepared a temporary testing range about thirty minutes inland by helo. Quinn and Luigi transported the selected assault rifles and loaded them on a civilian, rather than military utility helo to avoid speculation and flew to the test ground. It didn't take long for Kapelle to satisfy himself as to the condition and effectiveness of the batch and an hour and a half later, they were flying back to the port. There, Kapelle insisted on Luis accompanying him through the transfer which was to take place off Asilah, less than an hour's drive from Tangier. Not wanting to raise any doubts at this stage of the deal, Luis agreed though he had been hoping to switch back to Jax and meet Quinn at the transfer location. As much as possible, he'd rather keep Quinn away from the Argentinean. Quinn finding Luis attractive was not a pleasant thought and the last thing he wanted to happen.

Quinn watched the two men get in their respective cars and drive off. Luis d'Aragon hadn't spoken to him at all.

The deal sealed, Jax called Quinn from his car after switching off his voice distorter. "It's a go." He told Quinn. "Transfer will be off Asilah. It's down south, about an hour away by car. I'll send you the co-ordinates after this call. You should get there by fifteen hundred hours.

"And you?"

"I'll call you later and meet you back in Tangier.

* * * * *

The transfer, a few miles off the coast from the picturesque town of Asilah, went through without a hitch. Once the deal was inked, Luis told Kapelle that he had - what else - a flight to catch. Quinn, as warned, had kept away from Luis, dealing only with Kapelle but Jax had caught him stealing a furtive glance or two and felt an unfamiliar twist of jealousy. Totally irrational, he knew that, since Luis and Jax were the same man but Quinn didn't know that. As far as Jax was concerned, Quinn had been looking at another guy. He dismissed those thoughts and focused on what Kapelle was saying.

"I have spoken to my director," Kapelle said. "The payment is being wired as we speak. He would like to meet you sometime. Perhaps, dinner."

Jax perked up at that. "I would be honored."

It is an honor, indeed, if I may say so. Monsieur Zhuravylov is very particular about who he dines with."

" _Ivan_ Zhuravylov?" Jax asked, hoping it was. One of The Five. How many Zhuravylovs were there buying arms? "The Russian industrialist?"

"That is correct." Kapelle nodded.

 _Bingo._ Kapelle had held out his hand to Luis, smiling for the first time. "Bon voyage, Monsieur d'Aragon. It has been a pleasure doing business with you."

"And with you." Luis responded. "If your Boss is satisfied with his purchase, tell him I'm expecting another shipment but that a certain Asian country has already expressed interest. If he wishes, we could discuss it over dinner. Here's my card. Would you be so kind as to pass it on to Senor Zhuravylov."

"Indeed, I will. Au revoir, Monsieur d'Aragon."

"Au revoir." As Jax drove away from Kapelle and Quinn, it occurred to him this was the smoothest operation he'd ever conducted. Too smooth, perhaps?

* * * * *

"Yes, Jax." Alex answered on the first ring.

"Mission accomplished. Went without a hitch. I'm leaving Asilah now. Heading back to Tangier."

"Good. I admit I'm curious as to how you managed to juggle between Luis and yourself with Quinn there. I hope your cover hasn't been compromised. Not even with my son."

"You know better than to ask, Alex." Jax stifled a sigh. "There's something else. Asadel called earlier, telling me a couple of guys came looking for me. Said they heard I was in town and wanted to discuss a business proposal. Wanted to know where they could find me when Asadel told them I'd already left the house and wasn't expected to return."

"And?" Alex tensed.

"And they asked for my phone number, which Asadel didn't give them, of course. They left a message for me to call Robert Smith or to meet him at the Café Hafa at four-thirty this evening. That's half an hour away so I'm on my way there.  Only people outside of ourselves who know I'm here is the White Phoenix and we've already met with their people and concluded the deal. So I'll have to see who _Mr. Smith is and what he_ wants."

"Where's Quinn?"

"He's on board the naval vessel with Matt. I'll meet him back the hotel after I'm done with Smith."

"When are you due back?"

"We'll leave tomorrow morning so ETA will be sometime in the afternoon, PST."

"Call when you get in." Alex wanted to ask how Quinn was doing but didn't want to sound like an anxious dad asking about his son's first ballgame.

"I will." Jax ended the call to Alex and called Quinn. "Hey. Where are you?"

"Just out of the port." Quinn replied. "You?"

"Ten minutes out of town. Drop off at Tangier and find your way to the Hotel Continental. It's not far from the port. Room 208. I have to meet someone but I should be back in a couple of hours or less."

"Okay. I'll buy Luigi and his guys a drink, then."

"That would be good. He's a good guy. Weird sense of humor so be warned." There was a pause where neither spoke then both did at the same time. "I'm looking forw -"

"When we --" Quinn broke off. "You first."

"Nah, it's okay," Jax said. "I'll see you back at the hotel.


	24. PART TWO – Chapter  23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Op Sirin-Tangier is accomplished. All they need to do is track the movement of V-1. That's good news.
> 
> Bad news is that they may have won a battle but the war is far from over.
> 
> No one's going to complain, though, if the two boys take some time out now to make love, not war, right?

_1730 hours, Wednesday evening;_

_Continental Hotel; Tangier_

An hour and a half later, Jax was back at the Continental Hotel. Quinn wasn't back yet.. The meeting with Smith was a ruse, as he suspected. For what, he didn't know yet but he played along and would see where that led. Mr. Smith had merely wanted to sell him a piece of prime property, supposedly belonging to the estate of Michael Jackson. He had received information that Mr. Theron, a high networth potential client, was in town and hoped he could interest him in a sale.

Plausible explanation and Jax made a show of accepting it. Let the man think he lucked out. When Jax left the Café Hafa twenty-five minutes later, all Smith had asked him was whether he was in Tangier on business, if he was here with friends or family, where was he staying, and recommended some hotels to Jax when he said he hadn't booked into one yet but wouldn't be returning to Asadel's house. All Jax had told him was he was travelling alone, dropping by to visit a friend on his way back to the US.

And no, he wasn't interested in acquiring any property in Morocco, thank you.

* * * * *

"I need a shit and shower." Quinn muttered, returning ten minutes after Jax came out of the bathroom. "The assignment's over, isn't it?" he asked, stripping off his clothes and dropping them over the back of the chair.

"This one is." Jax replied. "Why?"

"Because if it is then I have plans that will require you to _not_ be my CO and for us to be in a certain state of hygiene."

 _Yes!_ "Okay, not your commanding officer," Jax said. "For tonight, at least. And for the second part, we could shower together if you can't wait but the toilet's only made for one asshole at a time."

"I could say ‘in that case, I defer to you." Quinn grinned, unzipping his jeans and stepping out of them. "but I missed my lunchtime dump and I need to go."

"'Lunchtime dump'?" Jax looked at him quizzically.

"Most people go in the morning, after breakfast. I go after lunch."

"Oka-ay."

"Let me have my shower then I'm seducing you. Just letting you know."

"Thanks," Jax said. "Believe me, I never would have guessed."

Twenty minutes later, Quinn emerged from the bathroom, drops of water still clinging to his hair and shoulders. He finished drying himself, knowing that Jax was looking at his naked body, at one specific area of his anatomy."Nice." Was all Quinn heard from the other man.

Jax suddenly got up from the bed where he had been sitting, propped against the wall and went to the writing desk, bending down to get his shoes. "I'm hungry," he said, deliberately ignoring Quinn's earlier announcement. A little nonchalance never harmed anyone. Besides, he could still hear Alex's warning in both ears. "How about you?" He straightened up and found Quinn flush against his back. Their eyes met in the mirror.

"Starving." Quinn placed his hands on Jax's shoulders, turning him around. Without another word, he unbuttoned Jax's shirt and slipped it off those broad shoulders. He unsnapped and unzipped those blues, knelt down and carefully worked it over the hard cock - _ahh, commando_ -  and shoved them down to Jax's knees.

Jax had gone mute and let the other man undress him without protest of any kind. Quinn pushed him back, stalking his steps until he was backed against a wall. Only when Quinn knelt down and took his erect cock in the mouth did he snap out of his temporary paralysis. "Fuck!" he rasped out, more a painful groan than a real word.

"After dinner," Quinn said. "This is just my appetizer." He grasped the steel-hard cock and started sucking and tonguing it at the same time.

"Fuck." Jax grabbed the dark head at his groin as if to test that it was real and he wasn't hallucinating - Quinn Masterson-Knight was sucking him off! "Just a sec". He carefully extricated his cock from Quinn's mouth and hurriedly discarded his jeans, kicking them aside with his shirt then watched, breath held, as his cock once again disappeared into Quinn's face. Felt it bump the back of Quinn's throat, causing the man to gag slightly. "Oh fuck! Sorry. Fuck."

Quinn released him and looked up. "Blowjobs obviously have a diminishing effect on your vocabulary." He swallowed the thick rod again.

"Only when you're giving it. Only you." Jax held the head firmly."Oh shit. Don't stop." His breath came out harsh and erratic. "I thought you'd never...have you?"

"Mmm...mmm." Quinn shook his head to answer then slid his mouth back up to the tip before sucking the entire head back into his mouth again. The scent of Jax, clean yet distinctively Jax, made him want to swallow him down. Made him want all of the man, want more. Much more. He let the head pop out again. "No." He swept his tongue over the slit. "Never..." A lick. "...done this." Another lick. "Before." He took the head in. "Am I doing..." He took half the length into his throat then let it out. "...good?"

"Bloody fucking fantastic...if you shut the fuck up and finish it." Jax drew in a ragged breath as Quinn swallowed his cock, his long fingers grasping and stroking in rhythm to his bobbing head. Quinn focused on the task, breathing in the citrus scent of the bath soap still clinging to Jax's skin and savoring the flavor that was all Jax and nothing but Jax.

The object of Quinn's attention jerked in his mouth, hardening even more, if that were possible. With slow, steady and firm strokes of his mouth, Quinn brought his commander-in-charge to a state of hyper-arousal. Jax looked down at those sensuous lips cupped around his cockhead and couldn't believe this was happening. This man, who had inhabited his dreams lately, who had been the object of all his jerking-off, who was the reason why Nick was no longer his sub...this man had taken him in hand. Literally. No more worrying about Quinn being the boss' son, his mentor's son. This Quinn, with his lips latched on to his cock was definitely in control of the situation here.

"Stop." Jax gasped out. "Stop or I'm gonna come in your mouth." He pushed at Quinn's forehead but the man swiped away his hand, obviously intent on finishing the job.

Quinn stepped up the pace, letting the erotic sounds of sucking fill the room, competing with Jax's moans and curses.

"Oh fuck...!"

The burst of the thick come into Quinn's mouth made him hum in triumph. Swallowing as fast as he could, he sucked out the last drops as Jax started to slump down against the wall.

* * * * *

"Mission accomplished, sir."

Jax opened his eyes. Saw Quinn's grinning face and groaned. "Fuck you, Quinn. You nearly killed me."  He was slumped down on the floor, Quinn sitting in front of him.

"That good, huh?" Quinn asked.

Jax smiled groggily. "Don't let it get your head but yeah. That good." He staggered up and barely made it to the bed, crashing down on it face-down.

Quinn stood and looked down at him. "Too late. It's already gotten to my head."

Jax laughed out loud. Yeah, like he could miss that cannon poking out between Quinn's legs. "So what? Screw dinner?"

"Haven't you heard - all good things come to those who wait." Quinn asked with a smirk. "Operative word being ‘come', of course, and I bet we're not just getting good but fucking great. So -" he pulled Jax off the bed. "You wait." He threw Jax clothes at him. "Get dressed and we go look for some drop-off-the-bone Moroccan roast goat!"

After making enquiries at the concierge, they were directed to a restaurant called El Korsan that specialized in whole roasted goat, _m'choui_ , and though the establishment required a day's notice for the dish, the two men were lucky that m'choui, stuffed with prunes and almonds, was the daily special so no advance order was needed.

A couple of hours later, having enjoyed a leisurely cup of strong spiced Moroccan coffee, the two men headed back to their hotel.

"No hurry to get home," Jax said as they strolled through the Rue Dar El Baroud where their hotel was. "What do you say we take tomorrow off to do some sightseeing and catch the evening flight back instead?"

"You're the boss." Quinn smiled. "Sounds like a good way to spend the day but I have plans for tonight." He gave Jax a sidelong look. "Think you're going to be up for it?"

Jax laughed softly. "Oh, just try me, Masterson-Knight. Just try me and we'll see who's squealing like a stuck pig by sunrise."

"Sunrise. You really think you can last that long?"

"Like I said, try me."

By the time Quinn had slid the key card into their room's lock, Jax was so tight with need, he didn't think he could last two seconds before shooting his load.

The minute the door closed behind them, Jax found himself slammed up against the wall, exactly the way he had done to Quinn two weeks ago. His jeans were undone and shoved down to his ankles.

"Kick them off." Quinn ordered. "Keep your hands against the wall." He made quick work of Jax's button-down shirt. "Now, take the shirt off, too."

Quinn traced the contours of Jax's back, following every curve, every muscle as they bunched and ripped with every little movement Jax made. He was breathing heavily and his cock, hard, huge and leaking, was trapped between him and the wall.

"You go commando all the time?" Quinn asked.

"Yeahh!" Jax rasped out.

"Thank you." Quinn fell on his knees, dragging his tongue across the hard, golden buns, fingers digging into hips, guaranteeing bruises tomorrow. He sank his teeth into one cheek. A ragged gasp burst from Jax, his face still pressed painfully against the wall.

Quinn lapped away the sting then trailed his tongue to the top of the crease of those cheek. "Damn, you're the one who should have Bubble Butt as your nickname." He palmed one cheek, caressing the smooth skin, just lightly furred with fine, golden hairs, realizing as he did, that Nick was totally smooth all over.

"Nick's shaved all over. No leg hair even." Quinn remarked.

"You're fucking me and thinking about Nick?" Jax growled.

Quinn chuckled as he dipped a finger into the crease. "Bet you'll be thinking of Nick when I let you fuck me later."

Jax groaned at the thought. "Guess who I was thinking of when I was fucking Nick yesterday."

"Better be me." Quinn growled and his tongue joined his finger. "Bend your knees, sir, and spread your cheeks. I want to see your hole."

"I thought you didn't want me to be your commanding officer."

"Changed my mind. Kind of a turn-on, come to think of it." Quinn said, watching his finger skewering into Jax's hole. "C'mon. Spread those cheeks, sir."

Jax did as he was told, the newness of not being the one giving the orders, sending his cock in another spasm.

"You know how fucking good that hole looks from here, sir?"

"You sure you've never done this before?"

"Watched quite a few vids. Some of them are pretty explicit with great close-ups, you know."

"Yes, I know. We make our own. Ohh, fuck, yesssssss." Jax hissed as Quinn's tongue circled his hole then wormed its way past the ring of muscle, wriggling in all the way. He sucked in a breath and protested when said tongue retreated immediately. "Hey, no! Don't stop."

"What do you mean you make them?"

"Huh?"

"You said you make your own videos. You mean pornos?"

"What do you think? A cooking show featuring a SEAL chef? If he's naked it could work."

"C'mon, you really -"

"Look, sweetheart." Jax sighed. "My cheek is fused to the wall. My cock is leaking so much there's a puddle on the floor, my ass is twitching and begging so can we cut out the talk and just fuck? I promise I'll tell you about the home-made videos after you've fucked me into a coma."

Quinn didn't have a problem with that at all. He hauled Jax off the wall and shoved him on the bed. "Stay." With that order, he quickly shucked his clothes then dug in his bag, coming up with a bunch of plasticuffs that was standard gear for all KnightShade ops even when not on a mission. He took two then put the bunch back in his bag. Armed with a tube of lube, he went to Jax and took one wrist.

"Might as well make use of the four-poster." He cuffed Jax then went to cuff the other."

"You know I can just snap these if I wanted to, don't you?" Jax smirked.

"But you don't want to." Quinn rose up above him, taking his cock in hand and guiding it to Jax's lips. As if those lips had a mind of their own, they automatically parted to take Quinn in.

"Good boy. Now, take it all in. As deep as you can." Quinn watched as he fed his cock into Jax's mouth, feeling the tongue swirling around his cockhead inside until his balls were pressed again those lips. "Fuck..." He whispered. "You're deep-throating me." He froze, not sure if he could move without choking Jax. Then Jax moved back to release him but swallowed him again balls-deep. A few more thrusts then Jax pulled back completely.

"You can fuck my mouth, Quinn. No need to hold back. I can take it all in. Just showed you, didn't I?"

"You sure?" Quinn asked even as he pushed his cock in deeper.

"Mmm..." Jax withdrew. "Oh yeah. We practice on Staz's monster. You seen the size of his dick?"

"Uh, no. Not erect." Quinn started fucking Jax's mouth in earnest, now that he wasn't worried of hurting him. Jax did a pretty good job with his hands cuffed to the bedposts. His head bobbing back and forth on Quinn's cock, the balls slapping his chin whenever he took one deep thrust from Quinn.

Just when he thought Quinn was ready to spew - his cock had hardened noticeably until Jax felt like he had a bottle of Coke in his mouth - Quinn pulled out completely.

"Need to fuck you. Fuck you hard."

"Do it." Jax gasped. "Release me"

"Only if you won't touch me."

"I won't. I just want to spread my legs so I can watch your cock fuck my hole."

"Not gonna say no to that." Quinn went to his bag, dug out his KnightShade version of the Swiss knife and cut off the cuffs.

"Alex told me about your birthmark." Jax nodded at the light rose-colored fleur de lis just above Quinn's erection. "It's really pretty, you know. You should show it off. Shave your pubes so that area is left clear and smooth."

"Why. Would. I. Show. That. Off?" Quinn nudged the entrance of Jax's ass and pressed in, watching that tight ring of muscle swallow up his cockhead.

Jax closed his eyes. The press of Quinn's cockhead against his hole made him catch his breath. For some reason he couldn't explain, he didn't want Quinn to know. Maybe it was trust. He didn't know if he could trust Quinn all the way yet. Trust him enough to be vulnerable and tell him this was his first time bottoming. Wasn't it strange the things people worried about? As a seasoned operative, he'd been in situations that would make most men pee in their pants and here he was, as nervous as a - well, virgin.

Quinn gripped Jax's knees and started thrusting, testing with each stroke. He wanted fast - his body was raging for a quick release - but his mind wanted to relish this moment in time like a slow-motion segment. He wanted every inch of Jax to drag past his hyper-sensitive cock until it couldn't take another moment.

"Okay?" he asked.

Jax sucked in another deep breath. He felt stretched beyond endurance but refused to say so. Quinn pulled out then thrust back in and Jax gave a ragged groan. It felt so good...but it hurt because the man was goddam enormous.

"What's wrong? I'm hurting you?" Quinn asked, pulling out slowly.

"Fuck me, for god's sake! It'll be World War Three before you get down to it!"

"Didn't your mother teach you to say ‘please'?"

"Fuck!"

"Wrong word." Quinn dragged himself out of Jax's channel slowly, watching his thick girth slide out, glistening and pulsing. He couldn't last much longer himself and Jax was muttering something incoherent. Could be a ‘please, fuck me' or ‘I'm gonna kill you'. Quinn wasn't sure but he picked up the lube and squirted a liberal amount on his cock and Jax's anus then gripped both his thighs. "You want to be fucked fast and furious? Let's try this for starters."

Jax muttered something else, gripped the sheets and fixed his eyes at Quinn.

Quinn entered him with a firm thrust then started jackhammering his hole. Jax cried out several times but since there was a copious amount of pleading and begging for more, Quinn happily rammed away. There was something utterly satisfying seeing Jax's body pummeled like that, shaking the bed until the metal bars and railing rattled. On and on he fucked the other man whose belly was already smeared with pre-come. He was close and he knew it was going to be one motherfucker of a come. "Wanna come yet?" He asked Jax.

Jax nodded and mouthed something unintelligible, already pumping his cock.

When Quinn saw Jax's come explode out of his cock, hitting the man on his chest and face, Quinn let go with a roar, his eyes snapped shut, mouth agape, his entire face distorted with the ecstasy that ripped through him like a tidal wave.

* * * * *

"You alive or dead, Masterson-Knight?" Jax asked much, much later.

"Near-dead, sir," came the muffled reply.

"We're still playing fuck-the-CO, are we?" Jax chuckled and smacked Quinn's ass.

"Whattimeisit?" Quinn mumbled.

"Time for another round, buddy." Jax got up and went to the bathroom.

Quinn heard the sound of piss hitting the toilet bowl. Flush. Water. He staggered out of the bed, needing a piss himself. Jax waited for him, leaning against the bathroom counter, arms crossed. Quinn flushed and turned to find Jax watching him with a smile.

"What?" he asked, washing his hands.

"You give one helluva fuck, you know that, newbie?"

"Doesn't take a PhD in sex to give a good fuck, Theron."

"No, but if it did, you'd be the Professor Emeritus."

Quinn laughed and moved past Jax to go back to the room. Jax reached out and pulled him back instead. Their eyes met and locked. Two powerfully-built men, standing head to head. They hadn't known each other long. Just one week-plus?

"You've gotten under my skin. You know that, don't you?" Jax asked, pressing his lips to Quinn's.

"And it looks like I've got an itch only you can scratch." Quinn responded.

"You sure about that?" Jax murmured against those lips as he nibbled them.

"You talking about Nick?"

"Mhmm." Jax sucked in the bottom lip then let it rake past his teeth. "Fuck him then tell me you don't think he's addictive."

Quinn bent and sucked on Jax's neck. "What's the deal with Staz?"

"Jax tilted his head to give Quinn better access. "Mark me, Quinn. I want them to know, the minute they see me, that you've staked your claim." He sucked in his breath when Quinn bit down on the tendon and sucked hard. "Hey, I've never –"

Quinn released him but only after a huge, nasty purple-black bruise had formed on Jax's neck. "Man, that's a beauty." He turned Jax around to face the mirror.

Jax gave a bark of laughter. "No shit."

"What were you going to say earlier? You've never what?" Quinn asked, his arms wrapped around Jax's waist. He kissed Jax on the back of the neck and tightened his hold.

"Just wanted you to know I've never let anyone mark me before."

"So you're saying we're doing something special?"

"No." Jax turned around in the circle of his lover's arms. "I'm saying _you're_ special."

"Like Nick?"

"In a way." Jax smiled at Quinn attempts to establish his place. It didn't work for Carolyn but with Quinn, he wanted the man to know just where he stood. He believed in lust at first sight but he'd never felt like making the object of his lusts a permanent fixture. Until now.

"Nick isn't part of the _this_ equation This is just you and me. But Nick will always be a part of my life. You gotta know that, 'kay?"

"Does the other half your equation get to keep Nick, too?"

Jax laughed heartily. "Quinn Masterson-Knight, you're a man after my own heart."

"Feel up to proving that to me?" Quinn leered.

"If I get to pitch, for a change," Jax said as they returned to bed."

 


	25. PART TWO – Chapter  24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jax takes Quinn on a bit of sightseeing and for awhile they are just two lovers on a romantic outing. Just awhile, though, coz something comes up. Of course.
> 
> But...our boys are on their way to a good thing. They're in love...even if they haven't said anything to that effect. Yet. After all, it's been only one and a half weeks since they met.

_01230hours;Next day_

_TheMedina; Tangier_

They had gotten out of bed at eight - late for them - and had breakfast downstairs in the hotel. After that, they were going to do the tourist thing since Quinn had not been to Tangier before.

"It's no different from Marrakesh," Jax said. "Or Fez."

"This is my first time to Morocco." Quinn told him. "So we're going sight-seeing like you said."

Jax shook his head. "Now, you're sounding like a wife. I swear if you spend more than three minutes looking at some useless trinket in the suq, I'm taking off."

The two six foot-four men hailed one of the petit taxis, folded themselves into the tiny vehicle and rode around the town until lunchbreak when they stopped at the Café Hafa where Jax had met with ‘Mr. Smith' yesterday. He scanned the area but detected nothing of note. Quinn was enjoying himself, chatting up other tourists and taking pictures with his KnightFone. They checked out more places after that, Quinn marveling at the intricate architectural detail of some of the old mansions. Since they didn't have a heavy lunch, and their flight was at eight in the evening, they decided to have an early dinner and skip the airline food.

With still a few hours to go before they had to head for the airport, they decided to take a walk through the Medina. They had their backpacks with them since all it carried was their change of clothes. Their passports and weapons were on them.

"You look cute wearing that fanny pack." Quinn grinned at Jax.

"This little fanny pack can save your ass, sweet thang." Jax gave it an affectionate pat - both his pack and Quinn's ass.

"Aw, I didn't think you cared."

Jax's mouth twisted in a half grimace, half smile. "I care about that ass of yours more than I should, unfortunately."

"As I do yours, sir."

" _Don't_ call me that." Jax grumbled. Then a moment later, added, "except when you're fucking me. God, I already want you again."

Quinn chuckled and threw his arm around Jax's neck in an arm lock. The two men staggered around a bit, almost overturning a fruit stall. Quinn grabbed Jax's shoulders with both hands and pulled the Jax to him. It felt good, this camaraderie. He'd never felt this way about anyone before. Something indefinable had changed and while he couldn't say what it was, he knew it was exhilarating, made him feel alive, feel as if he'd fallen in -" he stopped suddenly then pulled Jax to him.

"Not here, Masterson." Jax said in an undertone. "You can't kiss me here." Around them, boys laughed and the older men pointed at them, no doubt complaining about drunk Americans.

Quinn said started walking, pulling Jax with him, the latter still apologizing to the fruit vendor. "Don't look back but we got company," Quinn said to him. "Three shops back on the right. Two guys. Blondes. One ponytail, one buzz-cut."

 "I know." Jax replied.

"You know? Why the hell didn't you say anything? I did that whole drunk routine just so I could turn around and get a good look at them."

"Because when I spotted them, they were still some distance away and I'm used to being followed so I wasn't peeing in my pants, unlike you spooks."

"Excuu-use me, Mister Playboy-socialite Theron, but I doubt those guys are the paparrazzi."

There was that, Jax thought with a grimace. The Firebird was used to being followed by those who saw him as another kill to boast about but Jax Theron? Only the paparrazzi, when it was a boring week in LA and Jax Theron ‘of- _the_ -Therons' was dating yet another new actor or model. So why - "Follow me," he said tersely, breaking off his own thoughts. Sundown wouldn't be for another couple of hours, or it would be easier to lose the guys after him, whoever they were.

"Where are we headed in case we get separated?" Quinn asked, quickening his pace to match Jax's.

"Not ‘in case'. We _are_ separating. No change in plans. We catch the flight from Tangier Airport. If we can't shake off our pursuers permanently go for Plan B. That's ditching the airport and heading for Rota. You got your return ticket for the ferry?"

"In my pocket."

"When you get to Algeciras, grab a cab back to Rota. Call Alex and take it from there."

"And if you don't turn up?"

"I will." Jax saw the flicker of concern on Quinn's face and softened just a tad. "We've got our KnightFones so we'll be in contact." He tapped the ear bud. Quinn took his from his back pocket and stuck it in his ear.

Five minutes later, Jax ducked into one of the cluttered hole-in-the-wall shops, Quinn hot on his heels, colliding into one of the Aladdin lamps and fighting his way through the hanging rugs and elaborate wind chimes.

There was an old guy standing at the back wall. No exit in sight. Jax shot off a few words in Arabic, pushed a wad of euros in the man's knobbly hand. The old man held the carpet-curtain aside and gestured to the hidden door.

Step on it, Masterson." Jax called out as Quinn extricated himself from the swirly, floaty scarves hanging down. They stepped into a small paved backyard but what was supposed to be the back entrance was blocked up by crates and furniture. Jax muttered a curse. Clearing the way would take too many minutes that they didn't have if the commotion out the front was anything to go by. The voices stopped and Jax guessed the old guy had succeeded in leading their pursuers elsewhere. Not for long, though. They'd be back as soon as they realized they'd been duped. He hoped the old fella had listened to him and made himself scarce or his neighbors would be dragging his corpse out.

"This way." Jax stepped around the corner of what he knew of these houses was the lavatory. There was a door next to the toilet and he muttered a prayer of thanks as it opened to reveal  a narrow staircase. He knew it would lead to the living quarters upstairs. And the rooftop. Even from where they were on the ground floor, he could see the neighboring roof. All these old homes had semi open-air courtyards at the back, protected by a high wall lined with pieces of jagged glass, some including barbed wire, to prevent B&Es.

"Block and run," he told Quinn as he pushed a crate and put it on the tiny landing of the stairway. "You get over to the other side first. I'll pass what I can over to you from out here. We're going to block up the door as much as we can to fool them if they come out this way." He dragged an old table and a couple of bales of cloth wrapped in dusty plastic and blocked as much as he could of the stairway entrance, piling as high on top of the table and as much as he could under it. He left a gap then squeeze through it in to join Quinn on the other side. They covered up the gap with the pieces Quinn had with him then closed the rickety door before adding more bales of cloth that Jax had passed across earlier.

That should hold up the barricade up awhile as well as make it appear as if the entrance was not in use.

"We're heading for the roofs." Jax said as they ran up the steps, the narrowness of the stairway slowing them down, obviously not built for men their size. Upstairs would be the living quarters of the family and he, a strange man, shouldn't be going up there but it wasn't as if he and Quinn had a choice.

They emerged out to the crowded living quarters of the bemused residents. Apologizing in rapid Arabic, Jax ran past them and out into another landing where a group of children were perched on the steps of another stairway. The hopped over the little kids and down the stairs then around a narrow passage where more doors were shut and locked - they checked. Finally, at end of the narrow alley, a staircase going up. Jax could see the top where it opened to skylight.

"Up here!" He dashed up, followed by Quinn.

The blonde Vikings had obviously found their way back, judging from the shouting they could hear. He saw a couple of kids run to the balcony to check out the commotion before their mothers hauled them back, shushing them.

They emerged out onto the roof and Tangier stretched out before them.

"We're splitting up." Jax said to Quinn. "You go this way and I'm going that way." He thumbed in the other direction. "Scratch the airport. They'll have people watching it, too. Go to Plan B. Jump on the next ferry leaving for Algeciras even if you don't see me."

"You gonna be okay?" Quinn asked.

Jax grabbed his face and kissed him hard. "I'll be on the ferry, sweetheart. I'm your dessert, remember?"

"Then you'd better be around to buy me dinner back in San Diego!" Quinn called out as they both ran in opposite directions.

"I was planning to! Hey!"

"What?" Quinn stood at the edge of the roof.

"How's your parkour?"

"Top of traceur of the year, babe. Top of the year."

Jax grinned and gave him a two-finger salute. "Go!"

Quinn leapt down onto the roof below and started free-running across. Jax saw him leap across the gap and land on the next building's roof, hitting the ground running. "Not bad," he said to himself just as the door crashed open.

Jax waited until the men spotted him then took a leap in the opposite direction from Quinn. Bullets whizzed past and cracked off bits of the wall next to him. Shit. That was too close. Clambering over the parapet into the neighbor's roof garden, he grabbed hold of a thick, curling vine that grew up along the wall from the ground two stories down. Thank God, no thorns, unlike those damned bougainvilleas. Windows on the way down. Balcony. Easy.

He swung down, gripping the vine, his foot finding purchase in a narrow window sill a couple of feet down. Enough for him to climb down, using the window grilles and dropping onto the small balcony below. The neighboring building was a single-story one, it's flat roof slightly lower than the balcony of the one he was in. Instead of re-entering the house, he leapt across the narrow space between the two buildings, landing on a roll on the roof opposite just as more shots were fired.

Running across the flat surface of the roof, he clambered onto the upper level of the adjacent building and ran across that. Tangier, like all the major cities of Morocco, was a hodge podge of old and new. The new were the five-star hotels and office blocks of the modern Tangier whereas the old was a jumble of dilapidated buildings stuck to each other at varying heights depending on how many wives the owner had. More wives meant more kids so more levels were sometimes added to accommodate the assortment of relatives and servants.

Jax took another leap onto another rooftop, running up another wall and clambering over to a ten-foot drop. Then a six-foot leap across to another roof, all without a pause. When he got back he'd commend Rohan on their Parkour program. He made the final leap and scrambled down the three-storied building, ran through another alley and emerged into the Medina.

* * * * *

About a hundred yards away, Quinn ran through the alley. He'd done a few leaps but the next divide was too wide and he'd had no choice but to clamber down to ground level.

His KnightFone chirped and Quinn blew out a breath of relief.

"Where are you?" he asked.

"About one click from the ferry terminal." Jax replied. "You?"

"Same. Give me ten minutes. Fifteen max." He waited a beat. "You okay?"

"Fine. Just hungry. The smell of the roast lamb is giving my stomach cramps." A pause. "Hey, glad you're - fuck. Gotta go."

The line went dead.

Quinn knew his orders were to go to the ferry and wait but when he'd made the first leap across to the next roof, he'd turned and seen what Jax did - deliberately lead their pursuers away from him. Damn if he was going to allow that. What the damned point was there in having them go in as a team if one of them was to run off when the other was under attack? So he'd doubled back and gone after Jax instead.

He saw Jax a few roofs ahead and their pursuers disappearing back through the door. Quinn knew they'd be following Jax close behind on foot. Still, the great thing about the roof-hopping thing was that if you were on the ground, you had to be very lucky to guess which direction your roof-hopping target was heading in or be in the right place at the right moment to spot him when he makes the leap. If you didn't, you'd have lost him.

Quinn hoped whoever was after Jax wouldn't get lucky and when Quinn caught up with Jax, he was going to kick his ass all the way back to San Diego.

A minute later, he saw Jax jump down. When he reached the spot and looked down. It was just another one of those narrow winding alleys interspersed with small balconies on both sides. He was about to make his descent in the usual parkour style - zigzagging between the two walls, kicking off one balcony to the other until he reached the ground - when one of the pursuers raced through the alley below. Instead of following the man on foot, Quinn ran along the roof.

He'd been hoping to keep his presence from Jax but he couldn't anymore. He pressed the speed dial for Jax. "You've got one behind you."

"What the fuck?" Jax hissed. "You're supposed to be on the ferry. From the _other_ direction! You disobeyed my orders?" He whirled around, trying to spot Quinn.

"You thought I'd leave my dessert for the dogs to get at?" Quinn grinned into the phone.

"You're so fired."

"Okay, but not today. The other guy can't be too far behind you." He heard a thud, scuffling and someone gagging. And heavy breathing. "Jax? You alive?"

"Shut up, Masterson, and get your ass down here."

Leaping across another gap, he scanned the winding alley, following the turns and checking the side alleys from where he was and spotted Jax in one of the side passageways kneeling over his pursuer, the buzz-cut blonde. Jax's forearm was pressed down on the man's neck and a stiletto in the other hand. A movement caught Quinn's peripheral vision and he watched the second pursuer, the blonde with the ponytail, creep along the narrow alley towards Jax's back.

Ponytail drew his gun. Quinn drew his knife. Ponytail took aim. Quinn threw his knife. Did he forget to mention to Jax that he also topped the class in knife-throwing?

When the body fell, knife embedded in the back of Ponytail's neck, Jax turned, eyes flicking up to his savior.

* * * * *

Quinn leapt down from the roof and stopped to retrieve his knife. The ponytail had been partly severed, the long strands of hair laying on the ground, mixing with the blood that was steadily flowing from the fatal neck wound.

"Hold the knife a sec." Jax told Quinn when the latter came up to him. "Kill him if he moves." Jax reached into his fanny pack and brought out an eye mask, the type handed out by commercial airlines, except instead of those elastic straps, these were Velcro. Jax blindfolded the guy then dug in his fanny pack again and brought out a pair of plasticuffs which he cuffed the man with. He reached in again and brought out a piece of cloth to gag him. Quinn watched the proceedings, eyes twinkling with amusement. "You happen to have a magic carpet in that fanny pack?"

Jax ignored him and brought out a small black case instead. It contained a couple of tiny studs. He leaned in to Quinn and whispered. "I need to insert this in his shoe. Distract him."

Quinn handed the stiletto back to Jax and reached for the guy's zipper. He undid the button causing their prisoner to squirm and give off a few muffled squeals behind his gag. Jax watched his partner unzip the pants, reach into the guy's boxers and pull out a limp cock. The man was still squealing as Quinn started stroking the dick. "I still need practice, you know," he said to Jax. "Never touched another guy's cock until recently."

Jax muttered a curse and went back to his task. He took one of the studs and inserted it under the sole of the man's shoe. He checked to make sure it was secure then pressed a button on the black case. He flicked a glance at Quinn who had succeeded in giving the guy an erection. Jax shook his head. Instead of a squeal, this time a whimper sounded. Jax couldn't help himself from rolling his eyes. He looked down at the box's cover. The screen on the inside cover lit up with a map, the co-ordinates, and a blinking dot to mark their location. Satisfied, he snapped the case shut, put the shoe back on the man and stood. "Let's move. Run. Then up. -" Jax jerked his chin upwards to signify the roofs. Quinn nodded and stopped the stroking. The abandoned cock twitched and the whimper returned to an angry squeal.

"Let's move!" Jax said and started running. "It's Rota for us, sweetheart." He told Quinn as they ran down the alley then  made it up to the roofs.

"Do sweethearts get fired?" Quinn grinned.

"When they can't follow orders to save their lives, yes!" Jax snapped.

"I saved _your_ life." Quinn reminded him, still smiling at him.

"And you're still fired so don't look so smug." Jax shot back at Quinn, increasing his pace. "They weren't after me," he added after a moment. "They were after you."

The grin slid off Quinn's face.

"Yep. Whoever tried to kill you a year ago, knows that you're hanging out with me. The guy back there was the Smith I went to meet yesterday at the Café Hafa where we were earlier. I had a hunch he wasn't really after a property sale but assumed he was after something I had. Or me. Looks like they just wanted to lure me out then follow me, knowing I'd lead them to you."

"He was saying something to you when I got here. Or trying to," Quinn said.

"Yeah, I asked him the usual questions - who sent him, who he's working for." They emerged out of the Medina close to their hotel and crossed the road to the port and ferry terminal. "Gave me the usual answers." Jax continued as they entered the terminal. "Gets his orders over the phone. Anonymous client  yadda, yadda, yadda."

"What did his client want?" Quinn asked as they presented their tickets. The ferry was supposed to have left ten minutes ago but it hadn't, as usual.

 "You." Jax replied. "They lured me out to get you. Not dead but alive. That's the interesting part."

"Reason?"

"If he could tell me that, we'd know what the hell you were up to a year ago, wouldn't we?" They handed in their tickets and boarded the ferry, taking two window seats close to the exit and kept an eye out just in case those guys had back-ups.

Half an hour later, they were off the ferry and in a cab to the car rental company. Whoever it was Jax called from the cab opened up the office and handed him the keys to a Mercedes E Class. Quinn took the keys off Jax, saying, "I'll drive. You read the map and play navigator."

Jax was about to tell him he knew the way to Rota so it would be easier if he drove but decided to let Quinn do it his way. Ten minutes out of Algeciras, Quinn turned to him. "You could have driven there blindfolded, couldn't you? You've been here enough times to know the place like the back of your hand."

Instead of answering, Jax directed Quinn to take a left turn.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Quinn asked.

"You didn't ask," Jax replied. "You just told me you were driving. No difference to me who drove as long as we get there." Jax looked at him, frowning slightly. "Why? You're mad at me because I didn't tell you I don't need a map?"

Quinn gave a huff and shook his head. "Are you really as easygoing as you appear to be?"

"Yep."

"And you run this M31 outfit being as easygoing with them as you are with me?"

"Yep."

"It works?" Quinn asked, then answered his question at the same time Jax did. "Yep, it does," they said in unison.

They broke out laughing.

"Seriously, though," Quinn said a minute later. "What really do you guys do? I know what KnightShade does and I know what I'm doing with Rohan and all, but you and your team, Staz and his, Nick...you guys do that black ops stuff like Delta and SEALs?"

"Sort of. Why? It's not like you're a stranger to this, you know."

"But I don't parachute down in the middle of nowhere in the dead of night. Or storm embassies to rescue hostages."

"You're more like James Bond, huh?" Jax asked. "Saunter into cocktail parties in a white tux holding a vodka martini? Shaken, not stirred, naturally. Seduce a beautiful woman - of course she's beautiful -" Jax gave him a sidelong glance, "so I'd feel better about it. I wouldn't be able to bear losing out to someone butt ugly." He waited a beat. "Or to another man."

Quinn laughed. "You're nuts, you know that? And no, I'm no James Bond. Far from it," he sighed. "To be honest, I just found myself stuck with the Agency. It was exciting at first, of course. I was young and it felt very sophisticated to me. And yeah, I _imagined_ myself to be James Bond. Minus the cool gadgets. After awhile, it got boring. Maybe because I wasn't jumping out of airplanes and storming embassies but having to clean pools and chauffeur my marks. Even took a course on acupressure and Swedish massage. That paid off the most - you'd be surprised how much intel I collected while rubbing them down. They talked to each other and on the phone as if I was invisible."

"As all good help should be," Jax quipped. "But yeah, that and pillow talk - apart from surveillance devices, are the usual means for collecting intel. Turn left at the next turning."

"So you've done this pillow talk thing?" Quinn asked.

Jax gave a shrug, not answering straightaway. But yes, pillow-talk was de rigueur for the Firebird. The only difference was that he killed most of the talkers after he was done with them.

"With guys or just the ladies?" Quinn persisted then waited patiently as if allowing Jax the option to respond or not. A long silence met the question until Quinn wondered what kind of an answer he was going to get.

"Both." A softly-spoken one, then.

A sigh followed the reply then Jax looked over at Quinn. "So spook work's not a passion. What is? What can you see yourself doing the next ten, twenty, even thirty years?"

"Trees, what else?" Quinn replied. "Doing trees."

"Seriously?"

"Building tree houses is serious business," Quinn replied and proceeded to give the ins and out of tree house building to Jax from the conception and design to the building, including the architectural and engineering aspects of it. "We employ architects and engineers and our portfolio includes luxury tree house resorts like The Flame of the Forest in Kenya or Sampaguita in the Philippines. It was my involvement in that project that I got to know the Philippines and learnt the language. But these projects are huge. Full resorts."

"So you'll go back to your first love, I guess."

Quinn smiled at Jax. "I guess. By the way, the guys from Artistree will be coming over on Thursday. Can you give me a budget to work with?"

Jax blinked at him. "I haven't the faintest idea how much it costs to landscape a house, Quinn. You're on your own with this one. Baxter can get you an appointment with my accountant... hey, wait a minute. Staz could give you a hand. He helped his dad out with their garden and they have a really nice house on two-over acres of land. Lots of trees and those flowery bushy things and the girly flowers on the footpath..."

"'Girly flowers'?"

"Yeah. Pansies or Pet-something. There's a pansy in there somewhere. You know the ones - with the monkey faces?"

"Yes, pansies," Quinn chuckled. "Petunias? Periwinkle? Primrose?"

"Fuck, man. How the hell would I know?" Jax laughed. "They all have pansy names. That I know."

"And you know I'm gonna fuck you again tonight, don't you?" Quinn asked, quietly.

"I should bloody hope so."


	26. PART TWO – Chapter  25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a hop, skip and jump from Tangier to Tarifa and to Rota where our boys will catch a lift home to San Diego. They get back home safe. Shower. Then more sex.

_Thursday night_

_Rota, Spain_

They had arrived at Rota just after eleven p.m. and stopped at a tapas bar for beer and the Spanish appetizers. Jax had already spoken to Luigi earlier and he would be meeting them at the Base.

“Follow me,” the Navy SEAL told the two guys ten minutes later when his jeep pulled up alongside their car. “You can leave your vehicle at the Base and I’ll drive you to the airfield. I’ll arrange for the car to be picked up by the rental company tomorrow. Your flight is about to leave but they’ll wait.” He lifted a brow. “Whoever you guys are working for, they’re heavyweights,” he paused. “Or they wouldn’t be calling the Admiral at this time of the night. He goes to bed early. Wakes up before dawn. He called me just after I spoke with you,” he said to Jax. “Told me to get you on that plane no matter how beautiful the senorita in my bed is.” He snorted a laugh and shook his head. “How the hell did he know –”

“Luigi.” Jax tapped him on the shoulder. “The entire naval base knows. And saw. And heard.” He turned to Quinn. “A few months back, one of the guys left his laptop strategically positioned on Luigi’s bedside table. Just about the entire base watched  him, complete with sound, as he –”

“Okay. Okay. I got the picture.” Luigi growled. “Here you are. Get outta here.”

The two men jumped out of Luigi’s souped-up jeep and ran to the passenger terminal. They were expected, of course, and waved through, running across the tarmac to the cargo plane.

Half an hour later, the town of Rota was a distant blur as the Atlantic fell away.

Twelve hours later, the plane touched down at Camp Pendleton, spitting out the 150 Marines and two civilians.

 

_0500 hours Friday morning;_

_San Diego_

It was five in the morning when Jax and Quinn got off the plane, San Diego being eight hours behind Tangier. Jax had called Adam before they left Tangier so he was waiting for them at the arrivals lounge.

“Home?” Adam asked.

“No, KnightShade.” Jax replied. “Alex is expecting us. We’ll debrief then head home.” He turned to look behind. Quinn was on the phone.

“I’ve changed the Artistree meeting to Monday,” he told Jax after he hung up.

“Good,” Jax said. “Coz I’ve got plans which involve a long, hot shower and a long weekend off.” He got his KnightFone out again and called Rohan. “We just got in from Tangier. What’s the stat on Staz and Nick?”

“Mission was accomplished an hour ago. Hostages are safely in the air heading for Miami. ETA for our guys – eleven hundred hours today.” Rohan replied. Jax glanced at the clock on his KnightFone. Four and a half hours from now. “But Nick’s a little wrung-out.” Rohan added.

“He got out okay?”

“He’s fine, physically. Was pretty tense there for a bit ‘cos intel came in that Antonio’s son-in-law, Velasco, was dropping in to visit Estaban. He was en route to Cauca from Vaupes. If he arrived before Nick could get the hostages away, the ruse would be uncovered. As it turned out, the helo lifted off just as Velasco’s jeep drove up the driveway.”

Jax blew out a breath. “Close call. Look, Quinn and I are taking the rest of the week off. I’m putting Nick and Staz on R&R, too. Don’t call me for anything unless it’s Firebird related.

“Got it.” Rohan waited a beat then said, “Have a good chill. By the way, Quinn gives a wicked backrub.” He hung up before Jax could respond.

* * * * *

Alex was pleased with the results of Op Sirin-Tangier, Even as they spoke, M31 was tracking the movement of V-1.

“Our bases in North Africa are monitoring 24/7.” Jax told their director. It was seven in the morning and Alex was already done talking to his European associates before they closed for the day. As always, he looked fresh and more like a financier than an ex-Delta operative.

“It’s too early to tell but if we’re right,”, Jax continued, propping a hip on Alex’s desk. “V-1 should be heading for the Suez. Once it passes into the Indian Ocean, we can be pretty sure it’s heading for Philippines. By then we should be getting more chatter.” And, hopefully, after all these years, they’d catch the White Phoenix with the smoking gun. “There’s also the invitation to dine with Zhuravylov.”

Alex steepled his fingers, sitting back in his chair. “There is that, indeed.” He sat forward. “Any thoughts on that?”

“I left Luis’ card with Kapelle to pass to Zhuravylov. Mentioned a second shipment; dropped a hint of competition in the horizon. Now we wait for another call. V-1 is enough to get them salivating for more so I don’t envisage a wait of months much less years before we get another call. Six weeks, tops.”

“I hope so.” Alex stood and went to his window. “What about those guys after you. Why would the White Phoenix send them?”

“They weren’t after me,” Jax replied. “They were after Quinn.”

Alex stiffened then turned. “Names?”

“Arvid Sundkvist and Karl Eriksson, according to their Swedish passports. They weren’t out to kill him, by the way.” Alex brows lifted at that. “Someone wants him alive. With only one of them left, I thought it would be more effective to let him go and follow him.” He dug in his fanny pack. “Sundkvist’s left Tangier with a tracking unit in his shoe and let’s see – ” he checked the tracking monitor. “He’s somewhere over the Indian Ocean.”

“Coincidence?” Alex asked. That was the route they suspected V-1 would be taking, if intel was correct.

“My guess is that he should be landing either in Hong Kong or Singapore sometime this afternoon en route to Manila, depending on the airline. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Do that.” Alex went back to his seat. “Quinn alright?” He would be or Jax would have reported it but Alex asked anyway.

“He’s holding his own.” Jax replied. “Better than I expected.” At Alex’s lift of an eyebrow, Jax clarified. “Well, he isn’t exactly experienced in this type of work, you know. He may be an ex-spook but from he’s told me and the profile I was given, he was doing the cocktail run. Besides, he’s already got his head in the trees so I was expecting to do a bit of babysitting.” He grinned. “Turned out he’s good to have at your back.”

“Your change of opinion concerning my son is gratifying,” Alex said drily. “Is he really going to be a tree house builder?” He picked up his pen and started rolling it over his fingers.

“Looks like.” Jax studied the other man for a minute as Alex continued playing with his pen. “Good as he did back in Tangier, he isn’t cut out for this kind of work. Hell, you know I’m planning to retire from it myself as soon as Operation Sirin is over.”

“Yes, I haven’t forgotten.” Alex looked up. “How are you both getting along?” he asked, ignoring Jax’s comment about Quinn’s unsuitability for their line of work.

“Considering how we met, very well.” Jax’s brows quirked up. “And barring anymore nasty surprises, we should continue to get on.”

Alex’s green eyes pinned Jax with a steely stare. “If those hickeys I saw on your neck last Friday are courtesy of my son, I’d say you’re getting along more than well. Perhaps too well.”

“Quinn’s an adult, Alex.”

“He’s also my son. If you’re fucking my son then so’s the Firebird. I don’t want Quinn winding up as collateral damage because the White Phoenix’s trailed him to Luis.”

“He won’t. I promise.”

“I’m holding you to it.” Alex retorted sharply.

“Sundkvist told me his partner might be able to tell me more about the contract on Quinn.” Jax said, deftly steering the conversation away from his personal involvement with the boss’s son. “Because Eriksson is the one who communicates with their client. Unfortunately, your son killed said partner before we could question him.”

Alex frowned. “Self-defense?” Had to be. Quinn would have known that a live captive was, in this case, more useful than a dead one.

“Sort of.” Jax glanced away. “Okay, _my_ defense, to be precise. Eriksson crept up on me as I was questioning Sundkvist. He was still a fair distance away, which is why I hadn’t detected him but Quinn was on the roof and spotted him taking aim. Got him with a knife through the neck.”

“So now you owe him your life, on top of everything else.”

“Hey, I would have done the same.” Jax shot back. “But back to the hit man. I’ll keep an eye on Sundkvist and if he ends up in Manila this weekend, it’ll be a sure bet it’s connected to the White Phoenix.”

“Then we’ll have to find out what Quinn’s connection to the White Phoenix is.” Alex said, tapping his index finger on the edge of his desk.

“Find that and I bet we find Dante – or what’s happened to him.” Jax concluded. “Find Dante and we’ll find out what happened during Quinn’s lost week.”

Alex picked up the phone and punched a couple of numbers. “Williams. Good morning. I need you to speed up on the investigation on Dante Santorelli. No, I understand. I need you to dig a little harder into Quinn’s past assignments with the CIA and Raven Resources. Talk to anyone who knew him, even socially. Get me a list of names, no matter how slim. From his dentist’s receptionist to his motorcycle riding friends. Yes, I know you’ve already given me that list. I want it expanded. Even jobs he turned down.” Alex listened for a second or two more. “Yesterday, of course.”

We’re taking a few days off, by the way. Today and possibly Monday.” Jax told Alex after he ended the call. “But I’ll update you on V-1 and Sundkvist.”

“Off? Doing what?” Alex looked puzzled. Jax had never taken an off day before.

“Off. As in a little R & R. I don’t do that often, you know. In fact, I’ve never done it before.”

“Exactly my thought.” Alex continued to look at him speculatively.

“Anyway,” Jax said, standing up to leave. “Nick and Staz should be arriving in a couple of hours and from the airport, they’re going to need some time out as well. I don’t think there’ll be any developments for another month. Zhuravylov will be testing what he’s got and Vulcan doesn’t come cheap. It’ll take the White Phoenix awhile to recoup that kind of money.” He gave Alex a mock salute and pushed the button for the doors.

“Find out where my secretary is, will you?” Alex said to his back. “And I’m asking you because if she’s not in _your_ office, I’ll eat my shoe. That woman has an identity crisis and I’ll thank you to remind her who her boss is.”

Jax turned and grinned. “See you around, boss.” He laughed at the growl his words elicited as the door slid shut.

* * * * *

Jax found Quinn chatting with B&B, as Quinn had taken to calling Bridget and Baxter. He was pleasantly surprised that Baxter had taken a liking to Quinn, having from early in his employment at Knightshade, for some reason, made it his duty to screen anyone he deemed getting too close to Jax.

Carolyn had been put through the wringer until she swore if Jax wanted to get anywhere with her, he’d fire the presumptuous ass. In the end Baxter wasn’t the one who was the presumptuous ass.

“Bridget, I think Alex is looking for you,” Jax told her. “According to him, you’re spending way too much time in my office and I think the old man’s getting a little miffed.”

“Well. About time.” Bridget sniffed. “I’ve been telling him I can’t continue to be split this way. It was meant to be a temporary solution until you found a replacement for Greg. God rest his soul.”

“And I have just the solution,” Jax said. He whirled around. “Baxter!”

“Yes sir.” Baxter looked up from the Excel sheet he was scrutinizing.

“I’m going to let you decide on this – you can be my personal assistant starting today so Bridget can return to Mr. Knight,” he paused for effect. “Or I could ask for Anderson from Admin to be my P.A. and you work under him. What will it be?”

“Well,” Baxter stood up, straightening his already straight bowtie. “Since this is so sudden. May I suggest that I take up your offer but continue to handle all your household administrative matters as I am already doing now? I could look for a suitable assistant for the office but for privacy’s sake, I should take care of your personal matters myself, as I have been doing for awhile now.”

“Excellent.” Jax smiled.

“Oh, and I took the liberty of dropping by yesterday to replenish the regular items, if you know what I mean.” Baxter batted his lashes at Jax.

“What regular items?” Bridget asked. “We just restocked his house when he moved in last weekend.”

“Oh, I was referring to Mr. Theron’s personal items. Men’s things, if you know what I mean. “To Jax, he whispered, “I managed to source for an excellent brand which is available in 2-liter pump bottles. Should last you boys a awhile instead of those pissy little tubes.”

“You got them? Really? Hey, that’s fantastic.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Theron.” Baxter gave Bridget a smirk. She turned away in the direction of Alex’s office, giving Jax a baleful glare as she passed him.

 “See? Easily resolved, wasn’t it?” Jax winked at Bridget. “I will see you on Monday.” He turned to Quinn. “You ready?”

* * * * *

“After your shower,” Quinn said, as Jax drove the car out of the KnightShade car park. “Come to my room. We’re going to continue what we started and we’re not going to be done until we’re done.”

“Yes _sir_.” A smile played on Jax’s lips but the heat in his eyes was anything but playful. He needed this man so badly he could hardly breathe. “But I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you shower with me in _my_ room and stay there the rest of the week or until we’re tired of each other?”

“Sounds good except for two things.” At Jax’s inquiring glance, Quinn explained, “One, I don’t know where your room is, and number two isn’t going to happen any time soon. If at all.”

Jax’s breath caught at number two. “You don’t know where my room is?” he asked, instead.

“You never showed me your room during the tour or after we moved in and we were on our way to Tangier the next morning, remember?”

“Mmm. You’re right. Well, that shall be rectified asap.”

Quinn slid his arm across and cupped Jax’s neck, rubbing his thumb along the base of the scalp where the ends of dark blonde hair were curling downwards. He touched the tips then burrowed his fingers in, massaging the scalp and causing Jax to groan.

“Stop that or we’re going to end up wrapped around a street lamp.” Jax gripped the steering wheel, shifting on his seat to adjust the erection poking up under his pants.

“You think we’re going to tire of each other, do you?” Quinn asked, picking up from Jax’s previous statement. His arm slid down and his palm covered Jax’s crotch instead. The car swerved and Jax cursed.

“Damn, Quinn. Get your hand away or we won’t live long enough to get tired of anything.”

Quinn chuckled, gave the hard bulge a squeeze and kept his hands to himself the rest of the way.

* * * * *

Quinn stood in the doorway of Jax’s bedroom looking nonplussed. “What the hell is that?”

“The weekend bed.” Jax replied, already stripping off his clothes.

“‘Weekend bed.’ Right.” Quinn walked over to the configuration and sat down. He smoothed his palm over the white sheets, noting how silky soft the texture was and that it was a single piece covering all four beds. “It’s four beds put together, isn’t it?” He bent to check underneath. “How the hell did you get sheets this size?” His head disappeared underneath again. “This is four king-size beds locked in together.” Quinn popped back up and sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing his palm over the sheet.

“Custom-made. You can get anything made to order in China. Even the bed. But I opted for the bed to be made by a specialty furniture-maker in Massachusetts. Just happened that the sheets arrived before the bed which, I was told, should be here in another month or so.”

“It’s big enough for ten people. Why –” Quinn stopped. “Is that what this ‘weekend bed’ is? Everyone sleeps here on weekends? In _your_ room? With you? Is this another house rule?” Dining naked. Sleeping together in one ginormous bed. What. The. Hell.

Jax held out his hand. “C’mon. Shower time.”

Quinn stepped into a bathroom that was as big as his living room back in SF. A huge glass circular shower stall had pride of place and another circular island counter next to it contained three washbasins, each with a mirror framed with glass shelving.

“The toilets are in there.” Jax pointed to the frosted glass stalls at the far side.

“ _Only_ three?” Quinn asked sarcastically.

“I didn’t want it to look like a football team’s locker room.”

“No-o. That would be terrible.”

Jax grinned at the sarcasm. Quinn got in the shower stall after Jax and pumping a handful of shower gel, he began to soap Jax down, hearing Jax’s sharp intake of breath when his hand brushed against the hard erection jutting out. “Turn around.”

Jax did, grasping the rail that encircled the shower. The blue light from the LED-lit rain-shower head cast an other-worldly glow on their naked bodies. He gasped when Quinn’s fingers slid between his ass cheeks and starting soaping and stroking. A finger teased his hole and he moaned, thrusting back invitingly. Quinn obliged and a thick digit pushed past Jax’s tight ring to slip in knuckle-deep.

“Oh God…don’t think I can make it out of this shower without –” Jax gasped. “Oh, fuck. Quinn…!” He pressed himself to the glass, his face distorted by the lust that was coursing through him.

“You’ll have to wait.” Quinn chuckled, his voice low and heavy with his own arousal. Seeing Jax bent over, ass out like that, was the most erotic sight he’d ever seen. It occurred to him that that exactly two weeks ago, the positions were reversed. And so were the emotions. Then, he was angry beyond words; ashamed of his own dark passions. Now, he was filled with a hunger not just for the act that he once wouldn’t even allow himself to think about. Now, he desired the man he used to hate. Wanted him like no other person in his life. Not one. Not ever. Before, he was a loner. Now, he had a ready-made family and home – odd as the men and their lifestyle were.

Quinn continued washing Jax and his CO obeyed his every command – ‘turn around’. ‘Arms up’. ‘Spread your legs.’ Jax’s armpits were scrubbed, his balls lifted up, the sensitive skin of his perineum cleaned. Quinn even tried washing out his navel. Jax had caught Quinn’s wrist just in time. He didn’t want to chance Quinn wondering what that hard thing was embedded under his navel. Even though Jax could switch it off again, he’d rather the tattoo not be activated at all and Quinn could accidentally do just that if he pressed on the button. The Firebird was such a highly-classified piece of intel that Alex and the higher-ups would have his balls if anyone else even got a whiff of it. Not that he needed reminding. It was his balls on the line, after all.

 “A bit of a hygiene freak, are you?” Jax asked as he washed out his own back passage.

“You complaining?” Quinn asked, starting to soap himself up and washing his own ass as he watched Jax. His eyes roamed over the hard body, noting the scars that, somehow, did nothing to diminish the beauty of Jax’s body.

“Not at all. Why do you think the bathrooms are so well-appointed? Mine isn’t the only one that’s fitted out with everything a gay man needs.” He reached out and grasped Quinn’s cock. “Except for this. This, only my bathroom and yours has.” Jax gave it a squeeze and moved his fist up its length and back down over the large, bulbous head. “Nice cock,” Jax said. “Would you believe me if I told you –”.

“Told me what?” Quinn prompted when Jax didn’t continue.

“Never mind.” Jax rinsed off and stepped away from the rain shower.

“No. Tell me.” Quinn grasped Jax’s arm as the latter opened the shower door to step out.

Jax moved Quinn’s hand off his arm. “Let’s get out of here, okay? I need you and I need you now.” He couldn’t tell him he’d fallen for him and fallen hard. Not yet. Not when Op Sirin wasn’t over.

Quinn turned off the water and Jax handed him a towel. He threw curious glances at Jax as he toweled off and hung it up neatly on the rail. Jax chucked his in the bin.

* * * * *

“You know for a couple of guys who’ve held back this long, we’re pretty controlled?” Jax was flat on his back, a position he’d never been in until yesterday in Tangier. It felt strange. Frightening, even, to have a man on top of him, especially one about to fuck his brains out.

“We’re trained to be patient. Besides, I wouldn’t exactly label Tangier as controlled.” Quinn responded. “Four fucks through the night and two in the morning ? But…if you like, I can always cut out the slam-you-up-against-the wall-and-fuck-you-till-you-scream and drive you crazy with extended foreplay.”

“No. Fuck the foreplay.” Jax’s soft laughter and inner musings died away as Quinn lowered his mouth. It wasn’t their first kiss yet it still felt like it was. Nevertheless, after the embers of their lovemaking had died away and they lay curled up against each other, the fear would come. Jax would worry that Quinn would inadvertently discover who Luis was. Last night, he’d dreamt Quinn did just that...then turn into the White Phoenix, a huge bird with black flames rising from its white body, holding Jax’s bloody beating heart in its claw. He woke up drenched in cold sweat and had mumbled some vague explanation to Quinn who had been awoken by his cries.

Not tonight, though. Tonight, Jax wanted to forget about the White Phoenix; forget Luis; forget there was no room for anyone in his life that wasn’t already in the team. And Quinn didn’t count. His presence in the team was only temporary. Once he recovered his memory, found Dante, he’d be off to play Tarzan. Maybe even go back to a Jane.

Quinn lifted his mouth from Jax. “You sure about this? You look distracted.”

“Just thinking about how different things are now between us in just a space of a two weeks.”

“Been an intense couple of weeks.” Quinn agreed. “But here we finally are.”

And Jax decided there and then everything else could go away and come back on Monday.

Their kiss resumed and deepened as both men sought each other out with their tongues, their fingers gripping hard muscles, cocks clashing like swords. Their ragged breaths revealed the lust that was consuming them until with a loud groan, Quinn peeled himself away from Jax’s mouth to his neck.

“I’m going to mark you.” he warned Jax.

“Do it.” Jax hissed, even though the marks from the last time hadn’t even faded away completely. “Do anything you want, Quinn.” He breathed in hard. “Oh God…” His cry was cut off by the sharp slice of lust that cut through him as Quinn bit down and sucked viciously. Jax’s fingers curled in on the sheets but found no purchase on the smooth Egyptian cotton. He grasped Quinn’s head instead and angled his own to give Quinn the spot on his neck he was rooting for. The one he’d given him yesterday was an angry purple on the other side.

Jax felt the sharp bite then the slow, heavy curl of desire as one more evidence of Quinn’s possession of his body was left on him. And another, till Quinn was satisfied that when they walked out of the room, the entire team, if not all of KnightShade, would know Jax Theron belonged to him. Why that was important to both of them he’d ask him later.

Jax felt his cock being grasped by strong fingers and his eyes flickered open to see Quinn looking down at him, pupils dark with anticipation. Quinn released him and sat up, straddling one leg over Jax’s muscular thighs.

He swept a palm over Jax’s chest down his abs, fingers circling his navel then trailing down to the patch of pubic hair. Quinn marveled at the beauty of the body trapped under his leg, at Jax’s mouthwatering cock jutting up with a slight curve towards his belly. No words could express the emotions running through him so he savored Jax in silence.

It felt like eons ago since he had Jax in his mouth when it was just yesterday. So soon, and already a night without touching him felt way too long. Quinn bent and covered Jax’s cockhead with his mouth, sliding down the length, tongue laving as it went. Fingers fisted. The pumping hand matched the rhythm of his mouth. Not wanting Jax to come just yet, he released the hard cock and hauled Jax’s legs over his shoulders then lifted up Jax’s ass, digging his thumbs between the cheeks to expose his hole.

“Oh yeah.” Quinn hissed as he pressed forward. He buried his nose in Jax’s ass and breathed in deeply, relishing the scent that was uniquely Jax’s. His tongue reached for the puckered entrance and gave it a loving lap. Suddenly, he stopped and spread Jax’s legs wider.

Jax chuckled at Quinn’s impatience but the laughter died away when Quinn looked up at him.

“You’re hurting.”

“What?”

“Your hole. The ring’s inflamed. Swollen. Why didn’t you tell me?” Quinn looked so upset Jax was alarmed.

“It’s  okay. I’ll just apply some of Hayden’s magic gel.”

“What?”

“He’s developed this anal gel that not only numbs the nerves around the rim, it has an opposite effect as well, It increases the pleasure senses in the prostate. It’ll bring down the swelling in no time.” Jax got up and opened the drawer, taking out the jar. He dipped a finger in the gel and applied it to his anus.

“Ahh…feels good already.”

Quinn didn’t look convinced, though. “I can’t fuck you tonight.”

“I told you. I’ll be fine.”

Quinn shook his head. “I was too rough. I’m sorry.”

“Listen, Quinn. It was me, not you.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard that before.”

“Must’ve been a female who said it.” Jax pulled at Quinn, laughing up at him.

Quinn smiled back. “I’m serious, Jax. I shouldn’t have fucked you so roughly.”

Jax gave an exasperated growl. “Listen. I wasn’t going to tell you this but – this is the first time I’ve bottomed.”

“Say that again.”

Jax looked down, picking at his toe. “You heard me.”

“You mean I’m your first?”

“Oh shit! Go all cocky and strut around, will ya.” He twisted around, punching his fist into a pillow before burying his face in it.

“Hey, babe.” Quinn crooned in Jax’s ear. “Maybe it is adolescent and immature of me…but it makes me feel special. I’m kinda old-fashioned that way, okay? I know you M31 guys are sophisticated and have a very worldly view of sex…and that’s fine…but while I enjoy being with you all, inside I am just a simple, conservative fella. So me ending up being the one to pop your ass cherry makes me feel on top of the world!”

Jax lifted his head up slowly. “Are you dissing me?”

“Who? Moi?” Quinn grinned. “So, can I tell Nick?”

“Do that and die.”

Okay, so it wasn’t his first time and his cherry had been popped a long time ago. Long enough for him to start over – in his mind, anyway. To be someone who’d never bottomed. Who was always on top of everything. Everyone. Long enough to almost forget that terrified seventeen year-old. Not long enough to be blotted out of his memory completely but long enough to pretend. Just a little. He had to give himself that much, at least. Or life would not have been tolerable. One day, though, he’d tell Quinn about when he was seventeen…


	27. PART TWO - Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jax brought out the magic gel (the one Luis used on Harry Matthews) in the previous chapter and here he tells Quinn what they use it for.
> 
> Quinn asks what a Nickathon is. Answer: a fuckathon, of course.
> 
> Jax and Quinn discuss where and how Nick fits in their own relationship. Meanwhile, Staz is worried because he can't find Nick. 
> 
> WARNING: Explicit sex ahead.

Quinn told Jax to go to sleep even though it was ten in the morning. There would be no fucking until his asshole recovered! And that was an order.

He didn’t know why Jax lied about being an ass-virgin. Or maybe he did. Maybe he did understand but had hoped Jax would have told him about his ordeal. Too long ago, perhaps? Something Jax wanted to forget? God knows he’d have done the same thing himself if he’d been abducted at seventeen and kept as a sex slave.

Yet Quinn had hoped Jax could see him as someone he could talk to about those dark recesses in his life. But if Jax never did, well, that was fine with him, too. Theirs had never been a world where two people, however much involved, needed the other to open up completely; and went into sulks when that didn’t happen. That was for the normal couples. The ones they – M31 – kept the world safe for, so that they could go home and demand to know every fucking detail of their lives from way back as if She had a right to know what He did ten years before They’d even met and where He demanded to know the same of Her. People like Jax, the only reason any of them stayed alive as long as they did was because they dealt with their shit differently from normal people and keeping secrets went with the territory. When Quinn made that decision to let himself love a man like Jax, he’d known what he was getting into.

He also knew there might come a day when he found out something a little too much for him to handle. He’d deal with that when the time came.

For now, if Jax had a few little secrets he thought he hadn’t told Quinn about, well, he was entitled to them.

 * * * * *

They had left Alex over at KnightShade after the early morning briefing and everyone else was at work. They slept till past noon, got up and fixed a sandwich for lunch then laid down in the lounge to watch the news.

Quinn lifted up Jax's leg as the latter lay on his side.

"Looks normal again," Quinn said. "That was some magic gel. What's it called? Is it on the market"?

Jax laughed. "No name, not on the market. Nothing that comes out of KnightShade is out on the market. In ten year's time, maybe. Everything out of D&T is a prototype. Works fine, just not marketed because it's still too expensive to be commercially viable but that magic gel? We bring it out when we have a Nickathon."

"What's a Nickathon?" Quinn asked.

"A fuckathon."

"Fuckathon." Quinn repeated. "You don't mean like a marathon, do you?"

"Mmhmm."

"And it's Nick being..."

"Mmhmm." Jax nodded.

"You mean you all fuck him until he passes out or something?"

"Or something."

Quinn gave Jax's butt a stinging whack.

"Ow! Hey!"

"What is a Nickathon?"

Jax took a deep breath as he sat up. "Alright, I'll tell you but if you start dissing us -"

"I won't."

Jax waited a beat, as if deliberating whether to tell Quinn. "You know he's special," he began, his voice soft. Almost reverent. "To me. To all us. Nick has stuff in his past that he works out in ways other people may not understand."

Quinn nodded. "He told me a bit about it."

"He did?" Jax asked, surprised, then lapsed into silence.

"So you guys line up to fuck him." Quinn prodded. "You already told me that."

"Not just us. We are his regulars. At a Nickathon - he gave it that nickname, not us - the other ops from KnightShade line up." He waited for that to sink in.

When there was just silence, Jax turned to look at Quinn. He sighed when he saw Quinn's horrified expression. At least, Jax guessed it was horrified. It was sort of frozen in place, the mouth half open. Jax snapped his fingers at Quinn.

"Earth to Mars." Snap. Snap.

Quinn blinked. "How does it um...work? Who organizes it? Does Alex know? How many guys...?"

"We don't do it that often. Nick needs it only after a particularly stressful mission. So far, we've only held three. Three in eight years."

"How many men?"

"Twenty. Thirty."

"Thirty??? In one session?" Quinn almost choked. "Wouldn't that kill him? Maim him, at least!"

"KnightShade cybernetics, Quinn. You have it, too. My um, virgin ass couldn't handle it last night because I didn't undergo the cybernetic op but looks like now I should. Nick's ass can handle fifty men in a single session before he starts to show some uh, evidence of rough play. I'd say that's pretty fantastic.

"For Nick, it takes the edge off when he returns on that adrenalin high, for the KnightShade men who sign up, it blows their mind. For Hekyll, Jekyll and Adam, it's research. For me, it's a voyeur's dream."

"And Staz?"

"He goes out and stays out for a few days. But as I said, we've only done it three times in all these years. With Nick, anyway. Hekyll and Jekyll have other test subjects. I feel one coming up soon for Nick, though."

"Why?"

"Combination of factors. He got back from one mission that was pretty tough but he managed to hold it in. Then I ended our D/s relationship. That was a major stressor. Then this last mission had Rohan worried. He warned me before we left KnightShade to expect some ‘acting out'."

"So what happens if you decide he needs a session?"

"The Lab will organize it. Only guys who don't have an assignment coming up in five days can qualify. They get tested and they wear condoms, something I'm sure you've noticed M31 does not use among ourselves. A Nickathon is all about Nick. It's for him, it's about him. For that little space in time, the rest of us don't matter. Research or not, Adam keeps a strict eye on him throughout the entire session. He'll call a halt if he sees the need to."

Quinn stood up. "You're insane. All of you. Stark, raving mad." He shook his head and walked away.

Jax left him alone the rest of the afternoon. A couple of hours later, he saw Quinn heading for the pool. He watched him dive in and work off his steam through a dozen or so laps before going to lay down on the day bed.

Jax gave him another half hour before he went out to sit beside him.

Quinn opened his eyes when he felt the bed dip. "Hey."

Jax leaned over and kissed him lightly. Quinn curled an arm around Jax, fingers brushing the hair behind Jax's head.

"I just don't want to see him hurt, you know," Quinn said softly.

"Neither do we. You may find it impossible to understand but trust me, if we hadn't closed him in this protective circle, Nick would be dead by now.

Quinn pulled Jax down to him, kissing him deeply. Desperately, even. Quinn didn't know what to do with this bunch of guys. Their world was so different from his. He'd landed so far away from where he'd intended when he quit Raven Resources. He felt unsettled because he kept getting flashbacks yet was unable to catch hold of any. His lost memories felt so close yet so far. One week couldn't be all that important - unless you were the President of the United States, he supposed, yet he felt it was significant.

There had also been no progress with the search for Dante but it had only been two weeks since Alex put out the search so he couldn't really complain.

"Make love to me, Quinn." Jax's request was whispered in Quinn's ear. "I need you. So much. Not just sex. You. Wish I could tell you why but I don't know why."

* * * * *

Quinn led Jax back into the bedroom. He would make up for last night. He would take it slow and easy.

The stretch stung a little and Jax let out his breath slowly, willing himself to relax. He felt the head of Quinn's cock pop through his ring. Heard Quinn suck in a breath. He must have been holding it like he had. Oh God...that feels good. Hurt some. But good. The sensation of that erotic push and pull nearly blacked him out with its deliciousness.

"Yes. Quinn. Slow. Slo-oww..aargh." Jax's voice broke.

No response except for Quinn's own harsh breathing.

Quinn couldn't focus on anything but the man, laying under him, wrapped around his cock, sucking him in like a powerful maelstrom. Never in his fantasies did he ever imagine it could feel like this. That the feel of a man's skin against his, the feel of another man's cock in his hand, in his mouth!, the smell and taste of his ass...that it would be so out of this world, that he'd die if he never had it again. Never had Jax again.

"It's okay," Jax whispered. "You don't have to go that slow. I won't break."

Quinn increased his speed a little, letting go of Jax's knees, which he had been grasping, to bracket him on both sides of his body. "Don't want to hurt you."

"Stop being such a girl, Quinn."

So much for slow and easy and making up for last night.

Quinn withdrew from Jax and reached for the magic gel - didn't it have a name? He smeared it on Jax's hole, dipping inside. Disbursing his mind of a fragile Jax laying there looking at him hungrily, Quinn moved back into position between Jax's legs, pushing them back up against his chest.

Inserting only the head of his cock into Jax, Quinn gave one deep thrust, sinking into Jax until he was balls-deep.

Jax felt stretched to the limit but that thought itself made him harder than ever. The gel was taking effect and his entire pelvic region back to his ass was humming. His cock was leaking profusely and he couldn't touch it or he'd blow.

"Okay?" Quinn asked.

"Girl." Jax teased.

"You asked for it."

The force of Quinn's thrusts had Jax smacking against the bed until his head banged the headboard. No apologies from Quinn this time. He merely dragged Jax further down and resumed fucking him.

Jax was pleading for more, begging for harder. For faster.

"I'm gonna come. Hold on, babe." Quinn speeded up, scoring a bull's eye with Jax's prostate with each thrust in until Jax's curses came in harsh hisses and he erupted all over his belly and chest. Quinn plunged on, fucking Jax violently, watching Jax as his breath hitched with each hard slam of Quinn's cock. He held off for as long as he could, finally giving a shout and spilling his soul into Jax.

* * * * *

"Nick and Staz should be home." Quinn murmured against Jax's neck half an hour later.

"Mmm."

"If we don't get up, your come's going to dry and we'll be stuck together." Quinn warned. "I'm not smooth like you. My chest hairs are going to be glued together."

"Sweetheart," Jax mumbled. "You're the one on top...can get up off me anytime."

Oh, right. Quinn got off Jax and off the bed, almost tripping under his own feet. "Shit. Who took my legs?" He got his balance and padded towards the bathroom. "I'll rinse off and go check on the guys."

"What the hell for?" Jax asked, raising himself up on his elbows, squinting.

"You said Nick's a little tense. Almost didn't make it back from the mission." Quinn paused. "I'm fussing, aren't I?" he added with a grimace.

Jax sat up and waited for his brain to get into gear. "Yes, you are. Nick will be fine. I've put them on R & R. They haven't had a real vacation in three years. A bit of kicking back and chilling out will sort them out." He reached up over the headboard and grabbed a remote, depressing a button. The 60-inch TV screen came to life, displaying frames of various parts of the house. One frame showed Staz and the other, Nick. The latter was laying down on his bed staring up at the ceiling and in his room, a naked Staz was rummaging in his wardrobe.

"Hey, guys," Jax said, speaking into the remote. "Glad to have you back." Staz looked up and waved. "Rohan's been debriefed," Jax continued. "The two of you are on leave for the next two weeks. I'll call you if you're needed back. " Nick looked up then and gave a thumbs-up. "We'll see you later. Maybe for dinner. Ciao."

* * * * *

Jax didn't think he would ever forget this moment. Or this entire week, including the weekend to come because right now, he was in a place he hoped to remain in for awhile yet. Maybe a long time, if what Quinn was doing to him was anything to judge by. Not just physically, and that was the terrifying thing. Sure, the cock-sucking, the greedy kisses., the frenzied fucking that followed - they all drove Jax to terrifying what-ifs. What if he never tasted Quinn again? He'd never been emotionally involved with anyone before. Sex for sex's sake was enough for him and until M31 came into existence, his liaisons were varied and momentary. After M31, they were the only people that had a special place in his life, other than his family.

But Quinn. The man had struck him like a tornado, whirling through and leaving him totally unraveled. Why, he couldn't figure out.

What if Firebird got to him before they had a chance to see if they had something more than just good sex? For once, another fear was as great as that of Luis d'Aragon devouring Jax Theron. Last night he'd dreamed of the Firebird devouring Quinn.

And not being able to stop him.

He'd warned Alex the KnightShade shrinks were threatening to recommend that he be de-activated and put on enforced leave but he knew that wouldn't happen. His psych eval may not be what they'd like but he wasn't anywhere close to being thrown in the nuthouse just yet. Not with the White Phoenix so close to being dismantled. Not when they needed the Firebird to complete the mission.

Quinn returned by the time Jax had showered.

"He okay?" Jax asked.

"I don't think so." Quinn replied. "He's too quiet for my comfort. Didn't make a single flirty comment."

"I'll go have a chat with him."

"He just went in the shower when I left. Talk to him at dinner." Jax nodded assent. "So you and Nick fuck regularly?" Quinn asked as casually as he could.

"I wouldn't say it was regular, but yeah, I fuck him. Why?"

"Just curious." Quinn shrugged a shoulder. "Is he good?"

Jax laughed softly. "Nick is addictive."

"That good, huh?"

"Yes." Jax replied. "You're handling this shift rather well."

"Shift? To what? Gay sex?" At Jax's nod, Quinn gave a shrug. "It was just a matter of time before I stopped denying it. So you got other lovers or fuck buddies apart from Nick and the other guys in the team?"

"There are no others." Jax replied, the corner of his lip tilting up. "I can live without fucking the others. If I had to, I could live without Nick." Jax said quietly. But I don't think I can live without you and it scares me to hell. "Is that what you want me to do?"

"What? Give up Nick?" Quinn gave a snort. "We've only known each other two weeks, give or take a day or two. Hardly justifies expectations of any kind."

"I never believed in that."

"In what?"

"That there's such a thing as waiting a certain period before you have a right to expect anything."

"Then what was that with Carolyn?"

"Carolyn and I were never involved. We dated now and then. Part of my responsibilities as the eldest Theron and my parents' expectations that I'd get married and give them grandchildren. She was under the same pressure, I guess."

"Your parents okay with you being gay?"

"They were only upset that I didn't think to tell them." Jax smiled. "My parents are great people. So if you think I'm in this crazy line of work, risking my life in covert missions, actually working instead of bumming my life away, I can't blame a deprived childhood or abusive parenting. I have no explanation for it. Could be my grandfather's fault, perhaps. My father thinks so."

"Why's that?" Quinn was curious to know about Jax's family, about the man and he was glad Jax was voluntarily divulging the information.

"Long story. You'll meet him one of these days," Jax said. "If you're planning to stick around once you get your memory back and Dante's found."

"I'm not planning on leaving," Quinn said quietly. "So, you're prepared to give Nick up if I asked you to?"

"Yes." No hesitation.

"Gonna be pretty excruciating for you."

"Maybe."

"Will be." Quinn grinned. "Coz I have no intention of giving him up!"

Jax sat up. "You're fucking him? Since when?" He punched Quinn on the arm. Hard. "Sonofabitch."

Quinn laughed, rubbing his arm. "Settle down. I haven't fucked him but like you said, he's irresistible."

"Not ‘irresistible'. Addictive," Jax said, correcting Quinn. "They don't mean the same thing. Do the first and you'll know what I mean about the second."

"Well, I've resisted so far...unless you want me to fuck him, too."

"Okay, so what are we saying here?" Jax's eyes sought Quinn's, trying to find an answer yet not sure which one he wanted. "Are we talking exclusive here between you and me but bring Nick in?"

Quinn laid down and the bed and pulled Jax back down to him. "I'm saying if you're addicted to Nick, that's fine." He give Jax a kiss on the nose. "I've no problem being yours as long as what's yours is mine, too. That includes the rest of the team." Another pause, then he added as an afterthought. "I'm talking about Nick, not your material possessions."

Jax rolled his eyes. "I have no doubts you aren't interested in my money." He looked out the open French doors at the endless Pacific. "Is this moving a little fast for you?"

"I don't know." Quinn replied, quietly. "Never been in a situation like this before. I'm an exclusive type of guy. I don't do fuck buddies but this is a completely new and different variation."

"Think you can live with that? With us, as we are?"

"That's actually the raison d'etre if I were to stick around," Quinn said. "And I told you, I am."

* * * * *

Jax woke up and saw it was nearly seven and remembered he was to talk to Nick. He and Quinn had fallen asleep after he'd sucked Quinn off and that had, of course, ended with him getting thoroughly fucked again. He buzzed the intercom in Nick's room and when there wasn't any answer, called Staz's room. When that yielded nothing, he called Nick's KnightFone. It was off. Frowning, he called Staz. "Where are you guys?"

"Nick left the house as soon as you told him we had the rest of the week off. Why, Boss?"

"Where did he go?" Jax asked. "We were supposed to meet up for dinner."

"I know."

"He's probably gone to a club or something." Nick wouldn't have gone to the Web, Jax was sure. "Where are you?" The long pause had Jax narrowing his eyes. "Are you out there looking for him, Vincent Stanislaus?"

Quinn, now awake, sat up.

"Staz," Jax said, his tone now quiet. "Come on home. He's a big boy. So what if he needs to let out some steam? Look, Quinn and I are going to grab some dinner. How about we pick you up? If you still want to look for him after dinner, we'll go with you." Jax listened for a bit. "Right. Stay where you are. We'll be there in fifteen."

* * * * *

"You know what?" Quinn said, as they pulled out of the driveway. "We may be happy to share Nick but I've a feeling Staz won't."

Jax snorted. A car came round the corner a little too fast and Jax swore loudly. "As if he has any claim to him." He muttered. "Staz ought to know Nick isn't going to wait forever. And much as Nick loves him there's a side to Nick Staz needs to accept."

"What do you mean?" Quinn asked.

"We may have rescued him from a life of prostitution but he hasn't lost his taste for gangbangs. Apart from what I told you earlier, Nick likes getting fucked hard and rough and by as many men as he can find for a session. That's dangerous. Would have gotten him seriously hurt, if not dead, if I hadn't discovered it. That was why I got him into a club that caters to that sort of stuff. At least there I could monitor him, keep a lid on it."

"What of stuff?"

"Hardcore BDSM."

"And he likes that? The hard stuff?"

"Not so much now. He's gotten out of that but the need to be gangbanged, that's still there."

"Why do you think he wants that?"

"I think he needs to trust in a way that really stretches the limits. Ropes, handcuffs...that's all child's play to him. Nick doesn't need props. He needs people. Flesh and blood. Living people. What he needs to see and experience is trusting me enough to let me choose who gets his body and when. But I don't think holding weekly Nickathon's the way to go!" He snorted. After a moment's silence, Jax added, "I understand his need in a way I can't even explain to someone who doesn't feel that way."

"That's okay. Guess I'll have to see it for myself." Quinn watched the road in silence after that digesting what Jax had just told him. "If he's got such an intense relationship with you, why does he want Staz?"

Jax shrugged. "Could be he has an itch only I can scratch and maybe Staz isn't about an itch. Or maybe what he's getting from me is what he wishes he could get from Staz. Hell, I don't know."

"There he is." Jax pulled over to the kerb and Staz got in the back. "Indian good for you guys?"

"Only if we can have vindaloo," Quinn said. "I feel like something hot."

"Still?" Jax asked, feigning hurt. "After nearly killing me this afternoon?"

The sound of a throat clearing stopped that topic from getting any further. "So, anything you want to tell me?" he asked Staz.

Staz scrubbed a hand over his face. His jaw was shadowed and he looked like he hadn't slept in days.

"You look like hell, by the way." Jax made a right turn into 5th Avenue and stopped outside the Masala restaurant. The parking valet knew them by sight and greeting Staz and Jax by name as they got out of the vehicle and a polite ‘sir' for Quinn.

The maitre d' showed them to a corner table that had just been freed up by an early seating. Jax ordered Perrier for everyone then left the ordering of the food to Quinn while he focused on Staz. "Bad, is he?"

"You have no idea," Staz replied. "And I don't even know why." He rubbed his eyes, making them even redder. "I only know he'd been wound-up so tight the last couple of months you could flick him with your finger and he'd shoot to Mars. What's up with him, boss?"

"How was he on the way to Estaban's?" Jax asked, not answering Staz.

"No problem." The Perrier arrived and Staz waited for their glasses to be filled before continuing. "Like the pro he is. It was only when we were on board the plane home that he kinda went crazy."

"Crazy how? Rohan didn't say anything and he would have if Chad had reported it."

"No, not that kind of crazy." Staz took a swallow of his water, emptying three quarters of the glass. Quinn refilled it. "In the plane. He just about crawled on my lap and started kissing me!"

"Was he drunk?" Jax asked.

Staz shook his head. "Of course not. Even if Estaban offered him a drink, he wouldn't have drunk it."

"Then why the concern?" Jax asked, deliberately downplaying things. He had a suspicion what Nick was planning but he'd deal with that after he spoke to Staz.

Before Staz could answer, Quinn asked, "Did he kiss you?" Staz looked nonplussed. "You said he tried. Did he?"

"Oh man..." Staz took another swallow of water.

Jax slid Quinn a knowing look. "Ah, the bhajis." He took the fried lentil-battered onion appetizers the waiter placed on the table and took one. "So he kissed you. It's Nick. He gets horny after an assignment. So does every op." He bit into his bhaji.

"But not with me. He's always taken it somewhere else. You," he nodded at Quinn. "Hekyll and Jekyll..."

Quinn almost choked on his water. "So he took it to you this time. What's so alarming about that?"

"He's not supposed to."

"Why's that?" Jax asked casually, taking another bite of his bhaji.

Staz hesitated, looking harassed now. His appetizer forgotten on his plate.

"You're bothered because you let him, aren't you?" Quinn asked softly.

Staz didn't answer but picked up the half-eaten bhaji instead, taking a bite and chewing slowly. Finally, he shook his head. "What do you think? I'm supposed to be looking out for him. Not getting sucked in myself."

"What do you mean ‘sucked in'?" Quinn asked. Jax sat back, letting him direct the conversation.

"You don't know Nick," Staz said. "He's like a black hole or one of those giant stars that suck you into his orbit. If I let that happen to me, who'd keep him out of trouble? That boy thrives on trouble. You saw him at the Southern Hole."

Jax glanced at Quinn, glad to see he didn't wince at the mention of the club.

"He's not a boy anymore, Staz. He's a man." Quinn popped the last bit of bhaji in his mouth. "Is that what you're freaking out over?"

Maybe he shouldn't leave it for another day, Jax thought. "Staz. I'm going to tell you something, okay? Then you'll see I understand completely how you feel," and he proceeded to tell Staz about how he'd been seeing Nick at the Web and the jaw-dropping details of what went on in there. Stuff Quinn didn't know about. "I'd been fucking him for years now in the Web but we've ended that relationship." Jax leaned towards Staz. "That man - and yeah, he's a man, not a boy, like Quinn says - he can take care of himself so you don't need to get your knickers in a twist."

The gosht tandoori arrived and a moment later, the vegetable curries and Quinn's chicken vindaloo. They dished out the food and for the next few minutes, ate in silence. Quinn cast glances at Staz now and then but the Cajun seemed to have gotten his appetite back. He cleared his plate and asked for a plain lassi. Wiping his lips with the napkin, he sat back in his seat. "You still fucking him?"

Jax looked up from his plate, a piece of naan suspended in mid-air. "Ye-eah," he looked at Quinn.

"This is fucking crazy, you know that?" Staz growled. "You were fucking him disguised as some other guy because you didn't want him to know it was his commanding officer sticking his dick in his ass. But suddenly now it's okay for him to know?"

"I'd been planning to tell him but by the time I did, he already knew it was me. Knew it almost from the start." Jax added, a little sheepishly.

Staz snorted. "Couldn't have been a very good disguise. Good thing it wasn't an undercover assignment then or you'd be dead."

"It wasn't a real disguise, okay? "I merely wore a mask. Okay, so I used the voice distorter, too."

"A mask?"Staz repeated. "What kind?"

"Man in the Iron Mask." Jax muttered.

Both Staz and Quinn burst out laughing.

Jax scowled at them.

"Not very original, you must admit." Quinn smirked.

"At least I didn't pick the Phantom of the Opera." Jax muttered.

"So what's that got to do with my problem with Nick?" Staz said, laughter still rumbling in his massive chest.

"I wasn't any different from you." Jax replied. "I'm just as protective of him as you are."

Because it was Jax who offered his life in exchange, Quinn recalled.

"I haven't stopped looking out for him just because I'm fucking him, Staz." Jax said.

"But doesn't that make you like one of them?" Staz asked accusingly. Those guys who just used his body?"

"If I just used his body, then yeah. But I don't. Nick means a lot to me, Staz. Hell, if he weren't in love with you -"

Staz cut him off. "He's not in love with me. It's just hero-worship. The kid's been following me since we left that alley and I can't shake him loose. If -"

Staz's KnightFone vibrated and he took it out, glancing at the caller ID. "Hey, Rohan. What's up?" His head shot up and he looked at Jax. "Shit. Fucking moron. I'll be right there. You make sure he doesn't get up on that stage."

"What happened?" Jax asked, getting up when Staz shot out of his seat and practically ran to the exit. "Put it on my tab." He told Rajan, the head waiter. "And tell Zeena the tandoori was especially excellent." He ran after Staz. Quinn was already out the door.


	28. PART TWO - Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the previous chapter, we left Staz rushing out of the Indian restaurant after he received a call from Rohan. Jax and Quinn rush after him. They know one of two things is going to happen: either Jax is going to lose one of his two best operatives or Nicky-Baby finally gets his man. Considering Nick is the Friday Night Special at Club Blaque, an alternative members' only club specializing in 'live' shows, things could go either way.

_ Friday Night  
Club Blacque, San Diego _

Staz jumped out of the car before Jax could bring it to a stop. He'd pulled up outside Blaque, the gay establishment Rohan had told him Nick was in. Staz was furious enough to tear the place down with his bare hands. He didn't bother to check if Jax and Quinn were behind him. All he could think of was what Rohan had said on the phone: ‘you'd better get here fast. Nick's the next act up. He's going to get himself blindfolded, stripped naked and fucked by five leather daddies. On stage. Full audience and uhh, they pick three lucky guys from the audience to get a piece of him. It's a madhouse. He looks out of it and I need back-up to get him out in one piece."

Naturally, he was stopped at the door by a bouncer as big as he was. "Membership ID, please."

"Listen, my sister's son is in there about to be fucked on stage and you see those two guys in the car? One's calling the cops and the other the press. Know why? Cos Nick, my nephew, is retarded. Yeah, you heard me. RE-TAR-DED. Now, you let us in there and get him out before the cops get here. I don't need to spell out the trouble your club will be in if you're caught putting up live sex shows involving an intellectually-challenged person. Think what the press will do with that one."

"Fuck." The bouncer looked at Quinn who was getting out of the car. "I'll take you in." He took out his walkie-talkie and spat what were likely code words to the guy on the other end. "Follow me."

I told King Kong here the cops will be here any moment," Staz said as Quinn came up to him.

Quinn nodded. "Jax's waiting up the road. "He's called back-up in case there's trouble."

* * * * *

The bar they entered was no different from any other Staz had been in. Spacious, with several tables unoccupied. A jukebox, two pool tables and a couple of foosball tables as well as pinball machines.

"This way." The bouncer led them through a door and down a short hallway, stopping at an elevator. He punched the button and the door opened. The three men entered and the doors were closing when a hand stuck through, forcing the doors to reopen. "Back-up's waiting outside," Jax said. The four of them rode down in silence.

The sensation hit Quinn again as the doors slid open and he found himself entering a huge hall. He'd done something like this - taking an elevator down and entering a large, carpeted room like this one. The flashback was brief, though, and Quinn found himself looking at a raised platform, similar to a boxing ring, minus the ropes and five burly guys dressed in nothing but skimpy black leather strips and studs. The crowd was cheering them on and a heavy, techno beat added to the atmosphere as the MC announced their next act.

Staz only had eyes for the man strapped down on a low bed, his legs up in stirrups, eyes blindfolded. He was ball-gagged and his wrists were tied to two short poles at the head of the bed with black ribbons. Staz charged up the stage, followed by Jax, Quinn and the bouncer who whispered urgently in the MC's ear. As a mini-conference ensued and the crowd started clamoring for some action, Staz released Nick's legs from the stirrups while Jax and Quinn untied his wrists. The audience was getting louder and more people were shouting for the fucking to get started. Staz cussed more as he removed the blindfold and ball gag. He scooped the naked Nick up in his arms and Nick, after his initial shock at seeing his team on the stage with him, started protesting.

"Shut the fuck up or I'll shove this ball back in your mouth." Staz growled and carried him fireman-style off the stage.

The crowd started booing, the MC began to apologize and told the crowd that there was a medical emergency and they would be moving on to their next act.

The bouncer escorted the men out as Jax spoke on his KnightFone. "We're on our way out. Yeah, we got him. How many minutes before the cops get here?" he listened for a few seconds then cut the call. Turning to the bouncer. "I suggest that you go on back there and tell your employers a raid is about to commence in ten minutes or less. And listen, this is a favor we're doing you. We got a tip about the raid and just wanted to get our friend here out so you get your ass back down there pronto. Take us to the rear exit. Our car's waiting there." Turning to Quinn, he said, "There's a blanket in the boot." Quinn nodded and they followed the bouncer to the back.

Jax switched with Rohan, taking the driver's seat. Nick, wrapped in the blanket was bracketed by Quinn and Staz. "Can we drop you off somewhere?" he asked Rohan.

"Yeah, I'm meeting a friend at the Rolling Stone. That's three blocks from here."

Jax turned around to check on Nick and saw him staring ahead woodenly as Staz laid it on him.

"You ain't goin' nowhere from now on without my okay or damn, I'm going to lock you up and hang the key around my neck." Staz growled, his hands clenched tightly on his thighs.

Jax smiled. They were in for an interesting night. "How did you know he was at the club?" Jax asked Rohan as Nick started arguing with Staz and attempted to climb off his lap again. He heard Quinn trying to persuade Nick it was in his best interests to humor the big guy for now.

"I didn't." Rohan replied in an undertone. "One of Chad's informants is a waiter there. Chad went to meet him and spotted Nick. Saw him being um...friendly with some leather bears known for their hard play. He was curious and pumped the informant for info. He was told Nick had signed up to take part in tonight's show. They have these put on every last weekend of the month. Since they put on these shows, the club's been packed like sardines.

"They are licensed, by the way, and have VIP rooms for private viewings, lapdances. The works." Rohan turned around. Nick's face was pressed into Staz's shoulder but his hands were gripped together between his legs. Staz's arms were around Nick and he wore a scowl that could only bode ill for the young man in his arms. Rohan turned to Jax. "That's my stop." Jax pulled over. "Did I do right, calling Staz?" he asked quietly before getting out.

Jax nodded in reply. "You did."

"He'll be okay with him?" Rohan tilted his head towards the back.

"He couldn't be in better hands from now on." Jax replied. "Tell Chad thanks." Quinn got out and slid into the seat Rohan vacated.

* * * * *

Staz was too damned mad to hear anything Jax was saying as he strode through the house, still carrying Nick over his shoulder. He disappeared with his quarry round the corner to his suite.

Quinn followed Jax into the kitchen. "You knew what Nick was up to?"

Jax snagged two bottles of Bud from the fridge. "I knew he'd gone looking for some kink but not about bringing Staz charging to the rescue, if that's what you mean."

"So Rohan calling up was for real?"

"Yes, unless Nick put him up to it. You'll have to ask Nick that." Jax went over to the lounge, grabbed the remote and settled down. "There's a good game on. Watch it with me?"

"What about them?" Quinn tilted his chin in the direction of Staz's suite.

"Nick can take care of himself," Jax said. "I'm more concerned about Staz."

"Staz?" Quinn frowned. "Why?"

"Nick's addictive, remember?"

* * * * *

The door to Staz's suite slammed hard enough to vibrate through Nick's teeth. This Staz was new to him and even if the fear of the unknown often aroused him, he wasn't stupid. A little crazy especially where Staz was concerned, but definitely not stupid, tonight's antics notwithstanding. The last time Staz had gone rabid on him was six months after his rescue in the alley thirteen years ago. Staz had caught him in a gay bar and assumed he was selling his fifteen year-old ass to dirty old men. He wasn't. He'd been giving it away and it wasn't to aged pervs but young, hunky Marines. Until today, he still had a thing for Marines.

Nick felt himself thrown on the bed, the back of his skull hitting the headboard. He cursed and scooted down but a giant paw landed on his chest and before he could even get his head to stop spinning, a huge, hard body was crushing the breath out of him. Staz was sitting on the edge of the bed so his full body wasn't on top of Nick but it still prevented him from getting up.

"You wanna fuck everybody?" Staz hissed. Nick didn't bother to answer. Staz never yelled when he was truly pissed off. He hissed between his teeth. "You got no fucking discrimination, you fucking slut?" He grabbed Nick's face with both hands and went nose-to-nose with him. "Don't you fucking care that you could have gotten hurt?"

"What id dish in aid of, Stash?" Nick asked through lips that were squashed between Staz's palms. Staz eased up on Nick's face. "Why does who I fuck got to do with you?" Nick asked, getting riled up himself.

"Everything! Damn you, Nick." Staz's expression clouded with anguish. "Do you really need to fuck everything that has a dick?"

"Well...I never hid the fact that I'm gay."

"I'm not talking about that." Staz growled. Nick tried to push Staz off him but Staz caught his wrists and imprisoned them.. "Your being gay never bothered me. If it did, I wouldn't be a part of this team, much less Jax's best friend."

"Then what the fuck is your problem, man? I'll fuck whoever I want to fuck and I'll fuck them whatever fucking way I want! Now lay the fuck of me so I can go out and get laid!" Nick kicked his knees up, getting Staz in the ribs. The Cajun gave a yowl and twisted away from the next blow, releasing Nick who managed to slam both fists in Staz's chest, getting him off balance. He scrambled off the bed but Staz caught him around the legs before he could get away and both men went down hard on the floor.

Cursing a blue streak, Staz threw himself on Nick and straddled him, using his sheer size to overpower the smaller man, keeping out of striking distance of those knees.

"You wanna get fucked?" Staz growled. Nick was laying facedown and Staz trapped the smaller man with his massive body as he unzipped Nick's jeans and pulled them down to his knees, exposing his bare ass and effectively trapping his legs together. "You don't give a fuck whose cock's in you then you might as well have mine."

"Staz." Nick's voice was calm but he was so tense he thought he'd pass out. "Staz. No." He didn't want Staz fucking him like this. Staz, being Staz, would have the mother of all morning blues in the morning and Nick could kiss his hopes goodbye.

"Too late, Nick. You're getting fucked like the whore you think you are."

Staz got off Nick long enough to reach for the drawer on his nightstand then pulled Nick back when the younger man tried to scramble away, straddling his legs.

Nick heard the snap of the lube's cap. A moment later, fingers were lubing him up and he felt his hole invaded by the thrust of a thick finger. Another finger joined the first and he groaned - aroused by the anger he sensed in those fingers as by the ramifications. Staz was wrong about that - he did care. Jax had taught him to care. Being a part of the team had taught him to care. He didn't want Staz to hate him. To despise him.

Too late was probably what it was. He could still fight Staz. Could still escape if he wanted to. Yet despite the price he'd pay, he needed to have Staz just once if this was as good as it was going to get.

* * * * *

Staz pulled the jeans off Nick and threw them across the floor. Lifting Nick's ass, he positioned himself and with a single thrust, he buried his huge cock deep inside Nick, deaf to the man's cry of pain. He wanted it to hurt. He wanted Nick to hurt the way he was hurting and the only way he knew Nick could hurt was this way. The only pain the man knew to feel was the physical kind and Staz would bet even Nick would turn even that into something pleasurable.

Staz pulled out slowly, letting Nick feel every inch of him and heard the man moan. Not for long. Staz slammed back in and didn't let up even when Nick cried out again, his face contorted in pain. Or ecstasy. Or both. The sound of Nick's ass being viciously fucked filled the room as did his groans and Staz's angry cussing.

"You like it rough like this?" Staz rasped as his cock slammed back in. "You think you gonna get cock like this out there? Fuck you, Nick." He slammed in and pulled out. "Fuck." Slammed in. "You." His cock rammed in with each word. Then continued at a punishing pace despite seeing Nick's cheek pressed down on the carpeted floor, eyes squeezed shut, saliva dribbling out of the corner of his mouth as he begged in monosyllables.

"What you begging for? More cock?" Sweat dripped off Staz's forehead and fell on Nick's back, running down into his crack and mixing with the lube as Staz's cock continued to pump relentlessly in and out of his body.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Staz's breath hitched as his orgasm built. "Nick. Oh fuck. Nick." Just as his climax roared through his cock, Staz heard it. A small sob.

* * * * *

It was that sob that finally undid him; that brought his thirteen years of frustration to a blinding climax, literally, but also tore through the defenses he'd built up.

"Nick. Nick. God, Nick." Staz's litany continued as he spilled himself into the body that sheathed him. His arms went around Nick's waist and Staz hugged him tight as he came down from his orgasm. His hand stole to Nick's cock and found him still hard. He automatically began to stroke but Nick's hand closed around his, stopping him.

"No." Nick's voice was soft but the single word was clear and audible. "Not like this...Staz. I'm not a whore you're giving a concession to." A tear spilled out of one eye, soaked up by the carpet unseen by Staz.

Staz let go of Nick's cock and withdrew his own slowly. Gently even, now that his anger was spent and guilt was waiting to take over. He got up from Nick and lifted the naked, prone body off the floor, carrying him to the bed. Come dribbled out of Nick's abused ass and Staz pulled a few tissues from the box in the still-open drawer to wipe it off.

Nick opened his eyes and saw the look on Staz's face. Oh no, he wasn't going to let the big lug do this to himself. "Don't you dare say you're sorry, Staz, or I will beat you to a pulp," he hissed.

Staz couldn't respond, ridiculous as the threat was. He knew what Nick was saying but he just couldn't reply. He did feel guilty. He'd failed to take care of Nick and had become like one of those who'd used him for their own pleasure, uncaring of the man under all that sexual bravado. Just a piece of ass, he'd been to those nameless, faceless strangers. And now he'd think Staz was no different. "Are you sorry?" Stax asked finally, his voice a ragged whisper.

"About what?" Nick snapped.

"That I fucked you." Staz sat down on the edge of the bed next to Nick.

"Depends. Are you going to avoid me from now on? Pretend I don't exist? Request for a transfer?" Nick turned his face aside as if he knew the answer already.

Staz cupped Nick's chin and turned his face back. "Are you fucking crying?" He sucked in a breath. "Oh fuck, Nick. Don't."

Nick blinked away the tears, embarrassed. "Damned carpet dust got in my eyes." He pushed at Staz but the man refused to budge. "I'm serious, Staz. If you say ‘sorry', I am going to kick your ass."

"If I'm not sorry will you be?" Staz asked.

"Wait. We gotta back up a bit here. Aren't you straight?"

"I dunno." Staz sighed, breaking eye contact and looking out the French window. "I've no problem getting it up with a woman."

"Vincent Stanislaus, have you ever fucked a man before tonight?"

Staz turned back to Nick. "No. Never been any guy I wanted to fuck...'cept you." he added softly.

Nick shoved him back and sat forward. "You - you," the words stuck in his throat. Staz had the hots for him all this time? What kind of operative was he that he never noticed? One that's emotionally-involved, moron.

"Yeah," Staz sighed loudly. No point hiding anymore. "I've wanted to fuck you from the time I took you home thirteen years ago. Yeah, I wanted that fifteen year-old ass the same way I accused those filthy old pervs of. I didn't because that's just not the way I am, you know? Not the way I was brought up. You don't take advantage of those who are vulnerable; the ones who are weaker -"

"I wasn't weak." Nick protested, still processing the fact that Staz wanted him. Fucking wanted him!

"Maybe not but it's hard for me not to feel protective, you know? Despite all the missions we've been through together, you're still the kid I rescued and vowed to protect. That's why I couldn't take advantage of you."

"That's...um, admirable of you, Staz, but didn't it even occur to you that there was a point in my life when I was no longer that vulnerable kid? When I did what I did because I wanted to and enjoyed it?"

"You mean fuck a different man every night?" Staz looked perplexed. "You enjoy that?"

"I used to," Nick replied. "But not anymore. I - I...have these cravings, you know? Like I need to give myself, need to watch different guys take me. Fuck!" He bit off. "I don't know how to explain it, okay?"

"You said you used to but not anymore?"

"Yeah."

"But you still want to."

"Yes, but not in the same way." Nick averted his face and once again, Staz turned it back so Nick couldn't avoid looking him in the eye. If this was going to be a night of honest-speaking, it would be for both of them.

"Tell me how, then."

"Jax rescued me." Nick mumbled, gearing himself up for another explosion.

"He told me about that arrangement you had with him at that place that caters to that kind of thing."

Nick's eyes flew to Staz. "He told you? When?"

"At dinner earlier," Staz replied. His initial reaction had been one of pique - that Jax knew about Nick's deep-seated desires whilst Staz remained clueless. Fairness had won out, though, as he told himself he'd been too preoccupied with his own ambivalence over Nick to notice anyone else's issues. "I didn't know, Nick. I'm sorry about that - that you didn't think to come to me, too. Can we come to some kind of arrangement ourselves?"

"Huh?" Nick knew he sounded stupid but that wasn't true. He was stupid right now because he couldn't wrap his head around what he was hearing. "What do you mean?"

"You and me," Staz clarified. "It's kinda late in the day for me to deny what I feel for you but even if you didn't know that, you know I'm not a guy who wouldn't care about someone I love whoring himself. Or handing it out like your ass is one of them sales flyers. If you need this thing...wanting to give yourself, you know...," Staz paused, trying to understand this need of Nick. A need that was Nick stripped down to the barest and Staz couldn't change that even if he did. He loved Nick the way he was, heartache and headaches included. "Nick, baby. I'm sorry for calling you a slut. I'm sorry for calling you a whore. I'm sorry for yelling at you every time I see you making out with someone - like that time you were kissing Quinn in the pool. Could you do it only when I'm there with you? I'm not saying you have to ask my permission to kiss them or fuck them. You can fuck them or fucking pick their noses if you want. Just do it when I'm there."

"Uhh." Nick blinked, processing what he'd just heard and not quite sure what to make of it. "O-kaay...but what about when you're on a mission and I'm not?" he asked. Might as well push my luck.

"Then Jax will be in charge of your ass. You don't even fart unless he says you can."

"Okay."

"You sure? 'Cos if you aren't, then this thing between us ain't gonna work."

Nick blinked again but found his voice this time. "There's a thing between us?"

"See. That's what I'm afraid of." Staz growled. "It's just sex to you no matter who's fucking you. I can't handle other guys fucking you, Nick. Our guys, fine. I think that would be hot but that's it. No outsiders."

"Wait. Wait! You think the guys - our guys - fucking me would be hot?" Nick asked, hopeful but leery.

"Yeah. But no outsiders."

"Okay."

"Okay?" Staz looked skeptical. "You mean that?"

Nick pulled Staz to him till their noses were touching. "You don't know me that well yet to know what it is I need exactly, Staz. I'll try to explain it to you but -" He kissed Staz lightly. "Would you fuck me again first? And this time take your time?" He saw Staz hesitate. "Staz," he said quietly. "It's about you. For you. It's always been about you and no one else. I know you don't understand. I'll explain it another day, okay? If you tell me now that you don't want me touching anyone but you, I'd still be yours in a heartbeat. We can talk more later but right now, will you just fuck me one more time?"

"You think your ass can take it?" Staz scooted down and parted Nick's legs. "Turn over and lift up so I can check you out first. And don't fuckin' roll your eyes at me. Just do it."

"Sir! Yes sir!" Nick parodied and turned over.

Staz separated Nick's cheeks and frowned. "You look sore. Pretty but sore." He gave the pink, slightly swollen pucker a lick and chuckled when Nick moaned. He could live with that sound from Nick the rest of his life if he knew it was for him and him only. He gave another lick, as if soothing away the evidence of his earlier assault. "I don't think I should, Nick. Give it a rest, huh?"

Nick batted Staz's hands away and got off the bed. "C'mon. We're going to my room. I've got something there that'll take care of it." He'd waited thirteen years for this night. A sore butthole wasn't going to stop him from getting his fill. Besides, this prince could turn back into the frog in the morning. He went down one level to his room, Staz following curiously.

In his room, he pulled out one of the two drawers under his bed and Staz watched him take out a small jar.

"Lu-urve Potion number ni-i-i-ine." Nick sang the words after the old ‘60s hit. "Ta daa-" he twisted off the cap and put the lime-green gel under Staz's nose. "Hekyll's LP-9.

"Looks and smells like the shower gel I use," Staz said, giving the concoction a sniff.

"Yeah, well. He hasn't decided on the color yet. Anyway," Nick took Staz's finger and dipped it into the jar. "Just apply this around my rim then inside and it'll not only heal the inflammation in a minute, it'll increase my pleasure...nerve endings and stuff."

"No shit." Staz took another whiff. "Smells good. So I apply it just like lube?"

"Just like lube." Nick hopped on the bed and on his knees, elbows down, butt up. "It's edible, of course."

As Staz's fingers smeared his asshole with a gentleness that was inherent in the man's nature, Nick allowed himself to savor this incredible night. As Staz's finger penetrated him carefully, his cheek resting on Nick's butt as he concentrated on his task, Nick knew he had come home. At last.


	29. PART TWO - Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Staz makes up for those 13 years. He can't do it in a single night but at least he's started. Meanwhile, Quinn experiences a group hug, M31 style.

**  
**

This time, Staz made love to Nick. This time, he took everything he'd been denying himself all these years. He watched as his thick cock nudged the entrance to Nick's ass. Inch by excruciating inch, he sank into Nick. The expression on Nick's face alone, visible on the wall-to-wall mirror facing them, made him ask himself why he took so long to come clean. All those years to make up for. With a sigh, he thrust the rest of his length in, filling Nick deep. Stretched him so that Nick's mouth gaped open and his green-brown eyes rolled back. This time, Staz heard Nick beg for him, plead for him. There was nothing sweeter to his ears than hearing his name on Nick's lips as he begged to be fucked.

Then the steady rhythm commenced, each stroke calculated to make Nick feel every inch of his length and girth.

* * * * *

Nick's lips slackened. Relaxed. He gave himself up the indescribable sensation of being so thoroughly and deliciously made love to. This was what he'd waited for his whole life - to know the man giving him this was the man he'd loved since he followed him home that fateful day like a stray mongrel.

Staz kissed him. Deep and soul-searching in its hunger. No words were spoken, the only sounds being his breaths coming fast, catching on every powerful stroke of Staz's cock. His lips were sucked in, nibbled; that top lip of his that gave him that sensual, bad-boy smirk was caught between Staz's teeth and slowly released. Their tongues tangoed with each other as Staz caught his jaw with his hand. He felt his nipple pinched, rubbed, then sucked hard, Staz's teeth catching the hard little tip.

Nick caught Staz's head between his hands as he continued to buck up, meeting each thrust with a desperation that only another former street kid like him would understand. Maybe this night would be the only one he'd ever have with Staz. Maybe tomorrow, or even before the morning came, they'd be called up. He'd been lucky so far. Had come home after every mission, just as Staz had, though the last one had been a little too close for comfort.

If they had been preserved to come home just for this night, then it wasn't enough for Nick. He wanted a helluva lot longer. He wanted not days, not months, not years.

He wanted forever.

He thought Staz was about to come but instead the Cajun pulled out and slid down his body to take hold of his cock. Nick held his breath as he watched Staz's lips close over him. His balls tightened as Staz rolled them in his hand and stroked his cock with the other, all the while sucking him in and swallowing his length. For a guy who hadn't so much as touched another man's cock - not even when he let Hekyll and Jekyll suck him off, Staz was doing a fine job. So fine that Nick gritted out a warning - "Gonna blow." Staz speeded up instead. With a long, guttural groan Nick shot into Staz's willing mouth. Watching Staz swallow down every spurt made Nick's orgasm ride out longer and more intense than any he'd ever had.

Later, in the afterglow of their love-making, when Staz finally tended to his own need, they lay in each other's arms content and at peace. When the dawn light gently uncovered the day, Staz nuzzled his lover. Nick stirred and opened one eye sleepily to find Staz, head propped up by his elbow, looking down at him.

"Nicholas Monterey," Staz said softly, running Nick's dark hair back from his forehead. "You're mine and I love you."

Nick chuckled in his throat. "Well said, Cajun." He whispered. "Well said."

* * * * *

Hekyll and Jekyll were already leaving for work when Jax and Quinn appeared for breakfast.

“My parents are down for the week,” Hekyll said as he downed his coffee. “I’m having dinner with them then meeting friends for a drink.” He turned to Jekyll. “You joining us after your movie?”

“You bet.” Jekyll flung an arm around Hayden. “I am badly in need of chilling this weekend, let me warn you. My eyeballs are about to burst and my shoulder muscles are harder than my cock’s been.” He planted a kiss on Hekyll’s cheek. “And that,” he added, “is never a good thing. So – yeah, I wanna get buzzed tonight.”

"And _we_ second that idea." All heads swiveled round to see Staz coming up to them, Nick in tow - an obviously sated, well-fucked Nick wearing nothing but a goofy smile and a black strappy Gregg Homme with cut-outs exposing his butt cheeks. "Give your mates a kiss, babe."

Jax's brow lifted. _Babe?_ Next to him Quinn murmured, "Did he just call Nick ‘babe'?"

Nick went obediently, albeit a little groggily, to Hekyll, who was nearest to him, and gave him an open-mouthed kiss.

"Mmmm...I like." Hekyll murmured. "Don't know what happened last night with you two...but I like." He angled his head to deepen the kiss but a tap on his shoulder interrupted him.

"May I cut in?" Jekyll asked and pulled Nick off Hayden. "My turn. I love morning kisses," he said, looking into Nick's eyes. "Pardon me if I look a little cross-eyed this morning, Nicky baby. It's been helluva week down in the lab so how about a kiss as a deposit of better things to come tonight?" He kissed Nick lightly, "and this weekend?"

‘Yeah," Hekyll joined their embrace, wrapping his arms around the two men. "How about a special group hug tonight?" he looked over at Jax and Quinn who were watching the proceedings with a frown. "Seeing as Staz has finally come to his senses."

Quinn opened his mouth but before a word could come out, Jax put up a hand. "Save it. I'm as struck dumb as you are." He turned away to refill his coffee. Nick reached out and pulled Jax into the circle, kissing him full on the lips. 

Quinn watched the proceedings somewhat tentatively, uncertain whether he should just join them or get another cup of coffee. Staz obviously had other thoughts for him and pulled Quinn into the ball of tangled arms, legs and groping hands.

Jekyll gave Nick a warm smile, "Ahh, Nicky baby. Am happy for you." He kissed him, sucking in Nick's top lip - Nick was used to that; he knew it was irresistible, as if everything a guy could get from him was wrapped up in his top lip. "Fuck, man..." Jekyll breathed out against Nick's mouth. "Love those lips of yours -"

"Did I step into the wrong house or what?" Adam asked, walking in, his jacket slung over his shoulder, five o'clock shadow still on his face. "Why is Staz nuzzling Nick's neck while he's kissing you guys?"

"See what you miss when you don't come home." Jekyll released Nick. "hasta luego, mi amor." He turned to Adam. "Get dressed. You're late so we're going in first. Alex wants the report of Hades before the end of the day."

The men filed out of the kitchen area.

"Staz and I are going out. See ya later." Nick waved at the remaining two men and walked out, holding Staz's hand.

* * * * *

The day went quickly and only Jax and Quinn were home in the evening. Hayden and Jordan didn't get in until two in the morning and Adam didn't come home at all. Again. Quinn heard Jax speaking to him on the phone, though, and laughing over something Adam said. Nick and Staz were holed up in Staz's room all day except for the brief time when he emerged to take some steaks out of the freezer. They didn't eat together though. Staz grilled their ribeyes for dinner but carrying his and Nick's plate back to their suite, leaving Jax and Quinn to eat on the terrace by themselves.

Saturday came around and Quinn woke up later than usual. He came out of his suite and followed the aroma of coffee to the kitchen where he found Jax and Staz already there, pouring out mugs of freshly-brewed Arabica. Quinn took his seat next to Jax just as Nick appeared.

"Good morning." Nick stood in front of his commander, ex-Dom, rescuer and friend.

"Looks like." Jax smiled, cocking up a brow as he picked up his coffee. Taking a swallow, he looked at Staz as the Cajun pulled Nick to him.

Quinn put a slice of bread in the toaster as Staz took the seat next to Jax. He wondered where Adam was. He hadn't seen him since they had dinner together last week. He watched Nick kiss Jax as he waited for his toast. He was wearing another one of his Gregg Homme briefs again. This one had a zipper over the crotch.

Jordan joined them, hair still wet. "'morning guys." He poured himself a mug of coffee and added a couple of slices in the toaster. He watched Quinn covered his toast with butter and Vegemite.

"Let's go outside." Jax refilled their mugs and grabbed a few bottles of chilled water. "You can ask your questions now," he said to Quinn, grinning at him. Instead of walking away, he dragged a surprised Quinn and slammed him against the kitchen wall. "I know you've got questions. Just be prepared," he nuzzled Quinn's neck, "for a weekend of mindless fucking." He moved over to Quinn's lips. "Hekyll and Jekyll have been locked in their labs for days till past midnight every night working to get our latest invention ready. There was a demo yesterday for the top brass from Pentagon. They got the okay to commence production so they're ready to party." He lifted his head and moved his mouth to nibble at an earlobe. "They're generally benign, those two, but when they decide to party, it's no-holds barred. Expect to fuck and be fucked." He kissed Quinn. "You can sit it out, of course."

Quinn moved Jax away from him. "I think I can handle them." And took his toast out to the terrace. Jax grinned and followed him out just as Hekyll walked into the kitchen.

* * * * *

The day was clear and cool, the ocean breeze giving the morning the feel of a seaside resort - a stark contrast to the somewhat serious, expectant mood one had when waiting for some revelatory news. "You're looking happy this morning, Staz." Hekyll said, dropping down on one of the seats. "In fact, you look positively gay." He grabbed one of Jekyll's buttered toast and took a bite, not looking at Staz.

"What happened to you night before last?" Jekyll asked Nick. "Rohan asked us yesterday if you were okay and I told him from what we saw before we left, everything looked damned fine." When no one said anything, he asked. "So what did he mean? Something happened after we left?"

"No." Nick replied. "Happened the night before." He recounted to Hayden and Jordan what happened and despite knowing Nick as well as they did, it didn't stop them from listening with their mouths half-open.

"Shit," Jekyll muttered. "No wonder he asked. Probably thought Staz killed you - after he fucked you senseless, of course."

"So you're gay now?" Hayden turned to Staz.

"Shut the hell up, Hekyll." Staz snapped, pulling Nick to him.

Nick snuggled back against Staz's chest. "Okay, boys." Nick looked at them. "You guys know I like my sex often and varied. But it's not about fucking different guys every night."

"It isn't?" Jordan asked. "Then what were you doing every time you took off? And we know you were fucking. Or being fucked, rather."

Nick was about to answer when he caught sight of something. "What the _hell_ is that on your toast?" He asked Quinn with a disgusted look on his face.

Quinn took a bite and handed it out to Nick. "Vegemite. Aussie version of Marmite."

Nick took it and took a bite. "Urrggh." He spat it out.

"You were saying?" Hekyll prompted.

"About it not being about fucking different guys," Staz answered for Nick as the latter guzzled from the nearest bottle of water.

"Oh yeah." Nick took a muffin from the basket and bit into it. "Well, it was...at first," he admitted in-between swallows. "But not after Jax." Quinn's and Staz's eyes swiveled to Jax at that cryptic remark.

"He knew." Nick said, glancing at Jax. "He knew what I needed. Understood. He became my Dom. We'd meet at the Web almost every night whenever we were in town.

"Close your mouth, Hayden." Jekyll murmured, though he was as stunned as Hekyll. Need to get out of the lab more, he told himself.

"My body belonged to him," Nick nodded towards Jax, seemingly oblivious to Hekyll's and Jekyll's reaction. "And I guess, at that point in time, every other part of me as well. Even though I'd been in love with Staz from the start." He turned to Staz. "To you, I was just this street kid you rescued. Even when I reached eighteen and had had more cocks than you could imagine, I was this untouchable responsibility to you. Remember that time when I got drunk and came on to you? Your reaction had me thinking either you were homophobic or I wasn't good enough for you."

Staz started to protest but Nick stopped him with a hand over his mouth.

"Let me finish, Staz. You wanted to understand so hear me out." He opened a bottle of water and drank half of it down. "I love sex just like any normal guy. Unlike the rest of you, I only have sex with men. I doubt I could get it up for a woman. I don't know...never tested it."

"And you don't need to." Staz interjected.

"Same goes for you." Nick retorted. "As I was saying, I was Jax's sub. For the last six years, the only one who could fuck me was Jax and whoever he chose to give me to. Being watched as I got fucked turns me on so Jax would arrange for me to be on display. Yeah, like what I was gonna do last night," he said to Quinn. "What can I say? I'm an exhibitionist! But it was all very controlled with Jax. Yeah, unlike last night." He chuckled as he caught Staz's expression. "The Web's in a different class altogether."

"You don't say." Jax muttered under his breath.

"Why didn't you go there instead?" Quinn asked.

"Jax was still a member there and as far as everyone was concerned, I was still his sub. No way would anyone take up my offer to fuck me - if I'd even do such a thing, which I wouldn't because it's just not done. So I had to go somewhere I wasn't known. At the Web I could let go and let Jax take over. He controlled me totally and that was the way I wanted it. Needed it. I needed to trust someone with my body. Trust him to the extent that even when he got someone else to fuck me, I'd know he was doing it for me...and I could just let go and enjoy it because of that.

"And there were times when I'd play at non-con. Like you at the Southern Hole," he glanced at Quinn. "Well, we _thought_ you were playing. At least now you know why we didn't think it odd. It's a common fantasy role-play."

"No shit." Quinn muttered. He'd read somewhere it was the commonest fantasy, next to a gang-bang. He'd fantasized about both a time or two. He could admit that now but he'd just never acted it out or met anyone who did. These guys did both?

"So...it's not about the guys, it's about _The_ Guy." Nick clarified. "It's about the one I've entrusted myself to. And whatever he tells me to do, I do it all for _him_. That alone turns me on big time."

"So assuming I'm this special guy," Staz ventured. "and I told you I won't stop you from having other guys...but - if you can only have these guys who live here in this house, you'd be okay with that." he said, posing it as a conclusion rather than a question.

"Exactly." Nick replied. "It's you, not the guys. Not that I mean they aren't hot..." he gave Jax and Quinn a wink.

"Okay." Staz tapped out a tattoo on the table with two hands. "Let's check it out tonight. I'm sure Hekyll and Jekyll will once they know I won't snap their dicks off."

"Waitaminute." Hekyll held up a hand. "Am I hearing right? We get to fuck Nick?"

"Do we?" Jekyll asked, as skeptical as his mate. "So far he's been the one fucking us and we've been waiting...hoping..."

"So, can we?" Hekyll asked.

"Only when I'm around to keep an eye on him," Staz said, pulling Nick to him for a kiss. "But yeah, Nick's a free man to do as he pleases."

Hekyll and Jekyll exchanged looks. Hekyll piped up. "But pleasing _you_ is what pleases Nick..." 

"So will it please you to let us fuc-I mean appreciate Nick's charms?" Jekyll chimed in.

"He knows I can't refuse him anything...as long as it doesn't hurt him he can have it all." Staz nuzzled Nick's neck.

"Pussy-whipped." Hekyll whispered to Jekyll.

That was the great thing about Staz, Jax chuckled. Once he was in, he gave it a hundred and ten per cent. He reached out and pulled Quinn in for a kiss. From where Nick and Staz were sitting, it looked more like he was devouring Quinn than kissing him.

"Damn," Nick muttered. "That's making me hot."

"Babe, I wanna see how hot you can get," Staz said. "C'mere."

Nick went to him easily, fitting in the Cajun's arms as if it was home.

"We're taking this to the bedroom," Staz said. "You people coming?"

"I need to give Alex a call first." Quinn replied as the rest got up to follow Nick and Staz.

* * * * *

Bridget put Quinn through immediately and he felt strange hearing Alex Knight greeting him like, well, a long-lost son.

"Hey, Quinn." Quinn heard the smile in Alex voice. "How's it going?"

"Great..." Quinn almost added ‘Dad' and caught himself in time. "Any news about Dante?"

"Nothing much beyond what we already have. We did find out, though, that Bradley Weston died around the same time as Dante's alleged death."

"How was he killed?" No need to ask Alex if Bradley was murdered. They both knew he was.

"Fugu poisoning." Alex replied. "He told one of his colleagues he was having dinner with a Japanese friend and they'd be eating Tora-fugu - that's the most expensive grade of fugu. And the most deadly, if not prepared properly."

Quinn knew the puffer fish's toxin was 1,200 times more deadly than cyanide. Yet despite this, it was a delicacy in Japan. A culinary form of Russian roulette. Or Japanese roulette, as it had become known as.

"The Agency investigated all seventeen of the restaurants in the US that are licensed to serve Fugu, all except one are on the East Coast and none of them had a reservation under Bradley's name. They questioned all the people who had reservations and none of them had Bradley as a guest either. The investigation was classified and I was only able to get the information last night."

"Bradley was my handler two years before I left," Quinn said. "He was still Dante's when he supposedly died." What was the connection to him? Had Bradley's death anything to do with him and his missing week?

"It'll take more time to find out what Bradley and Dante were handling at the time of their deaths," Alex said. "While we have a lot of clout when it comes to our official missions, this is personal and there's only so far I can flex KnightShade's muscle without it incurring curious questions. We can't reveal our connection to the White Phoenix because that's highly-classified so I'm going to have to come up with something other reason for wanting all the files on Bradley, Dante and yourself. That won't be easy and we may not even get them."

Quinn gave a frustrated sigh even though he knew Alex was right. It seemed like years when, in actual fact, he'd only been here a month. It could take months before they dug anything useful. And Dante could really be dead by then. About half of the operatives who had stars on the Agency's HQ at Langley were left unnamed, all of them working on classified cases at the time of their death. Bradley's and Dante's stars weren't even up yet.

"I'm still getting flashbacks," he told Alex. "Two this week. The first was in Tangier when I met this guy called Luis d'Aragon. And the other one was back here at a club. I entered the basement of a club and the flashback hit." He paused. "I know it's too vague to be useful."

"Keep reporting them. Something will click into place. In the meantime, I'm sure Jax is keeping an eye on you. If Bradley was murdered - and we're assuming he was - either he discovered something's smelling fishy close to home and was taken out, or he's part of the shit."

"Wish I could remember something - anything - instead of these damned vague flashbacks."

"Quinn, you were told by the shrinks to expect this. The fact that you're even having flashbacks is a positive sign but if you don't get your memory back, at least you got back alive." Alex waited a beat. "That means more to me."

Quinn went quiet. "Thanks."

The two men didn't say anything else for a few moments until Alex finally broke the silence. "Well, I expect to see you as Caspar Theron's birthday bash tonight."

"I haven't been invited, as far as I know."

"Yes, you are." Alex countered. "Jax's team have a standing invitation so I'll see you there...son."

Quinn paused at that. "Okay. See you there, Dad."


	30. PART TWO – Chapter  29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little more smut before Operation Sirin needs attending to again. After all, a lot of things have happened in just two weeks so the team hasn't had any downtime during weekends to play.
> 
> WARNING: group smutting

**PART TWO – Chapter 29**

 

After his phone call to Alex, Quinn went looking for the rest and saw Hekyll walking off from the kitchen with an armful of bottled water. "Where's everyone?" he asked.

"In the bedroom. You joining us?"

"Yeah, sure." Quinn followed Hekyll, taking a couple of bottles off him. "Is Adam away on an assignment? I haven't seen him for days, except for yesterday morning."

"Nah, he's around." Hekyll replied. "He's met someone _interesting,_ according to him," Hekyll made quote marks with his fingers. "And whoever he or she is, is interesting enough to keep him from coming home. C'mon. Nick's waiting."

Quinn experienced a brief twinge of uncertainty as followed Hayden towards Jax's room. Until he met these men, his sex life hadn't been anything to complain about. Vanilla yes, but so was ninety percent of the population's. Wasn't it? The women he met and occasionally spent the night with were attractive and co-operative. They took care of his needs and he gave them as good a time, if not better, judging from the fact that they came back for seconds and thirds.

Now, in one short month, his entire lifestyle had been overturned. His life had changed dramatically and, as he stepped over the threshold of Jax's bedroom, he wondered, for the umpteenth time, what would come out of this.

"Relax," Jax said in his ear. "Just watch if you don't want to play."

Hekyll and Jekyll were already undressing each other, Staz undressing Nick. "I'm fine," Quinn said to Jax. "I'm not exactly a quivering virgin."

"Baby, by the time we're done with you, you will be quivering." Jax promised, laughing as he stripped off his clothes and padded to the bathroom.

Quinn followed Jax as the rest made their way into the bathroom as well. They washed and cleaned themselves and Jax gave Nick an enema. That bugged Quinn's eyes a little but everyone else was so matter-of-fact about it that he decided to take whatever else that came in stride. Twenty minutes later, everyone was ready and congregated on the vast bed. Jax was on his side, propped up on his elbow. He'd deliberately left it to Quinn to set the pace. If the latter wasn't ready for more than watching, so be it.

To his surprise, Quinn scooted up close to Nick as the latter laid on his back and drew up his legs to his chest. Hooking his hands behind his knees, Nick exposed himself - a wanton, needy creature. The men gathered around Nick - or around his hole, rather, making complimentary remarks about it that would have had Quinn blushing just a week ago but now was making him hard as steel.

Jax saw Quinn swallow hard as Staz positioned himself before Nick and lifted his ass up. The sounds of Hayden and Jordan devouring each other filled the spacious room and Jax took out the remote to open the sliding doors fully so that the breeze from the ocean kept the room fresh and cool.

Quinn watched Staz lap at Nick's hole, drawing out breathless moans from its owner.

"Give me a hand," Staz said to Quinn, looking up. "Or a tongue, rather." He nodded towards Nick's cock, hard and weeping across his washboard belly. "Suck him while I eat his pretty little hole."

"Okay," Quinn said, "but let me watch you first."

Staz chuckled huskily. "Sure." He dipped his head to Nick's asshole and gave it another lap, pointing his tongue and skewered it in, fucking him with it then sucking and lapping noisily.

Quinn placed his hands on Nick's inner thighs and spread him even wider for Staz's ministrations. He turned for a brief look at Nick's face and saw that his lips were parted, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy, fingers now grasping the edges of the pillow. Jax shifted up so that he could cradle Nick's head against his chest and give him some nipple play at the same time. Had to be a hell of a sensory overload for Nick, Quinn thought as his eyes went from Jax to Nick's face, to his nipples then to Staz's manic tongueing. Nick's cock was jerking against his belly and he was groaning in exquisite pain. At least, it sounded like pain to Quinn especially when Staz pushed his thumb in Nick's hole and followed it with another, stretching him.

Staz position the head of his enormous cock at Nick's entrance after lubing them both up with the gel he now knew was called LP-9.

"Fuck." Quinn sucked in air noisily. "You're going to tear him up." He saw Hayden and Jordan scoot over to watch but did not see the same concern on their faces.

"Nick can take it." Hayden assured Quinn. "He was the first M31 operative to get internal enhancements." Hayden started to explain how his team had developed their cybernetics using nanotechnological breakthroughs but was cut off by Jax's growl.

"Not now, Hekyll." Jax shook his head and Quinn smiled. He could relate to Hayden. He could get that way about tree house designing, too. He turned back to Staz's cock breeching Nick's ass and heard the intake of breaths. Not just Nick's but Hekyll and Jekyll's as well as his own.

"Man, now tell me that's not a beautiful stretch." Hekyll whispered in awe as the huge cockhead pressed past the tight rim and slipped in much more easily than Quinn expected. A loud groan from Nick made Quinn look up in concern but Nick had his face pressed against Jax's chest and his nipple was still tightly pinched between Jax's thumb and forefinger. He heard the unmistakable sounds of fucking and turned back to Nick's ass. Staz's jaw-dropping cock was easing in and out of Nick as Hekyll and Jekyll nosed in close to get front-row seats, so to speak. Quinn saw them take quick glances at each other, exchanging knowing smiles and planting wet kisses on each other's mouth in between egging Staz on.

"Go Staz. Fuck him hard!" Hekyll hissed as he grabbed hold of one of Nick's leg. Staz didn't need to be told twice and speeded up his thrusts. Quinn passed the leg he was holding up to Jekyll and moved to Nick's cock which had already left wet smears across his belly.

"Let me see you suck him off, Quinn," Jax said, lifting his head from Nick's dark one.

"Do I get points?" Quinn asked.

"Oh, you'll get more than just points." Jax assured him. "A damn lot more. Right, boys?" he looked meaningfully at Hekyll and Jekyll."

"You bet." Hekyll confirmed. "Just have to wait your turn, though, 'kay? Good ol' Nick here's waited a lo-ong time for this so we gotta make up for all those years, right Staz?" He said, to Quinn, "Nick never allowed us to fuck him. We could give him blowjobs and rimming but no penetration. He fucked us but not the other way around."

"Yeah, but - he...was getting it - at the Web from Jax." Staz pointed out in gasps.

"What web?" Hayden asked.

" _Not now_ , Hekyll." Jax shook his head.

Staz hissed through clenched teeth as he slammed into Nick again and again until the thick mattresses creaked and would have shifted apart if their divans weren't secured together by clamps. "Whoever's next, get ready coz I'm gonna blow."

Quinn took Nick's length all the way down to the root. Nick's cock wasn't as long as his or Jax's but made up for it in girth and a big helmet with a thick rim. Quinn sucked in as he moved his mouth back up to the tip, each stroke of his hot mouth bringing urgent moans from Nick. "Shhh..." he heard Jax say softly to Nick. "I got you, baby. You can let go now. I'm here and Staz is right over there. Both of us are going to make sure you get fucked and sucked all night until you're feeling good. Okay, babe?" Quinn saw Nick give a nod, his face still pressed against Jax's bare chest, mouth gaping open.

"Come on. Come on." Staz intoned. "I'm gonna blow."

"Me next." Jordan let go of Nick's leg and moved to take over from Staz.

"Hey." Hayden protested. "You cut off my orgasm to come watch them. My balls hurt. Let me go next."

"Shut the fuck up, you two." Staz muttered and gave a loud groan. "Ohhh...fuck. Yesss...oh fuck, Nick!" He exploded inside Nick just as Nick cried out himself and came in Quinn's mouth.

Quinn swallowed him down, every last drop, marveling at himself as he did so. He surprised himself with how comfortable he was with them, their no holds barred attitude towards sex with each other, their easygoing ways as they shared each other. Easygoing yet territorial, he knew. Whatever freedom they had with regard to their sexual arrangements, it appeared strictly limited to the six men. Seven, including him. Once again, he wondered about Adam but his thoughts were cut off by Nick's whimpers as Staz took over from Jax and held Nick to his powerful chest, crooning away at the younger man just as Jax had done earlier.

Quinn wiped his lips with the back of his hand and found himself grabbed by Jax for a hard, hungry kiss. The harsh sounds of Jordan fucking Nick contrasted with Staz's soft murmurs to Nick at the other end. Quinn broke the kiss to watch as Jordan came loudly, only to be pushed aside by Hayden whose long, curved cock was bobbing impatiently.

"Fuck. I can't wait much longer." Jax told Quinn  "Need to take the edge off."

"Didn't I already do that this morning?" Quinn asked. "But yes, I can see you need some attention." He glanced over at Hekyll who was watching Jekyll fuck Nick. "I'll fuck him," he nodded at Hekyll. "And you fuck me."

"Bossy, aren't you?" Jax grinned, grabbing the lube and pulling Hekyll over. "On your knees, Hekyll. Quinn wants a go at you." Hayden obliged, his gaze still fixed on Jekyll's cock ramming in and out of Nick while Staz held Nick's legs apart.

Quinn poised his cock at Hayden's entrance then twisted around to give Jax a kiss. "You ready?" At Jax's nod, he pushed his cock past Hayden's ring of muscle, holding him by the hips to keep him steady as he thrust in and out. He felt Jax pressed against his back and sinking his teeth in his shoulder, making him hiss in the momentary sting before it was soothed away by Jax's tongue. Then the cool smear of lube in his ass before Jax's fingers separated his cheeks and two fingers entered him.

Quinn sucked in his breath and his hole clenched at the intrusion. The drag as the fingers withdrew was delicious and he waited for a repeat but felt the blunt tip of Jax's cock breeching him instead. Even better.

The whole scene was turning Quinn on more than he'd ever been in his thirty-four years. Nick was completely out of it, cradled by Staz as Jekyll jackhammered away at him. Next to Jekyll, Hekyll was on his elbows and knees waiting for Quinn.

"C'mon, big fella. I'm waiting." Hekyll spread open his ass cheeks and Quinn couldn't resist giving it a lick. Oh God, Hekyll had a scent all of its own and Quinn loved it. "Your ass smells like almonds."

"Could be cyanide." Jekyll sniped, as he continued thrusting into Nick.

"You're just jealous he's fucking me first. Hekyll retorted. "Bet you -" Quinn's swift thrust into Hekyll shut him up.

Behind Quinn, Jax was fucking him slowly and leisurely, as if he,  too, were savoring the whole experience despite it being a routine thing for him. Then it came. The flash of brown hands on him, a large, hard cock that he knew he'd just sucked. Soft words in his ear. Telling him it didn't have to hurt. Feel good. A cold gel in his ass. Feel good. Beg. Quinn squeezed his eyes shut as a plea escaped him and he heard Jax's soft laugh behind him. No, not Jax. Someone else.

"That's it, babe. Let me hear you beg." The images and sensation got more intense. He could almost get a grip on the man who was speaking to him. Or was he confusing the man in the flashback with Jax? Both were speaking. Jax louder, of course. The mystery man in the flashback just a shadow and his words melting into Quinn's brain rather than heard. Then it was gone. And it was just Jax inside him. And suddenly, slow and easy wasn't enough. He needed it hard. Fast. Harder. Faster. More. Heard chuckling. Not him. Begging. Threats. Pleading. "Fuck me hard, Jax. Fuck me till I scream...and don't even stop...more...want more. Want you all..."

And so it went. Throughout the night. The six of them, taking turns fucking each other. Except Staz. He fucked them  all, even Quinn. Jax had said it was too soon and he didn't think Quinn could take Staz's cock just yet but Quinn had insisted he could. He did, with a generous helping of LP-9.

At some point, Jax and Quinn laid back, Jax against Quinn's chest, watching the others fuck each other. But seeing Nick's open enjoyment, his mouth at times wide open as he was held to let each man have his fill of him, was an experience Quinn would never get tired of.

He watched as Nick took them all one by one. They'd take a half hour break then start all over again. As soon as one climaxed, the next man took over and thrust in, not even giving Nick time to catch his breath.

Each time he'd finished, Staz would move up to Nick's head, cradling the youngest of their team between his legs. His massive arms would circle around him as if to keep him safe but also to keep him in place as the men rammed their cocks into him.

"You okay, babe?" Staz asked Nick softly, his own cock still hard as he listened to Nick's whimpers. "You want me to stop it?"

"No, love it...love them fucking me...love you."

"Love you, too, babe." Staz kissed the top of Nick's dark head, the curls damp on his forehead and hugged him tighter.

"Your cannon's poking me in the back." Nick complained. "Oh fuck, I'm gonna come...gonna."

Jax moved out of Quinn's arms to take hold of Nick's cock on hearing the warning and slipped it into his mouth, sucking it in. Nick gave a loud moan and exploded in Jax's mouth, yelling loud enough to wake Alex two houses away, as Staz would claim later.

Later, much later, when they had all gotten cleaned up and went for a swim, it dawned on Quinn that no one had fucked Staz.  Oh well, the Cajun would eventually come around. Just as he had.


	31. PART TWO - Chapter  30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> M31 attends Jax's grandfather's birthday celebration and Quinn meets Jax's family. He's also introduced to Haslinger, not knowing Haslinger is as eager to hook up with him as M31 is.
> 
> The final leg of Operation Sirin is about to commence.

_ Saturday night; February 2008 _

_ Caspar Theron's 90th Birthday _

Caspar Theron hadn't lived to see his ninetieth birthday without having seen a whole lot more than most men of his generation. Unlike the Fletchers down the road, the Therons didn't step off the Mayflower. Caspar's grandfather, Jed, had run a brothel for the wealthy in Boston. Not that it was called that, of course. Jedidiah Theron called his a ‘gentleman's club' and its clientele came from the nearby banking and commercial center. His income from the bawdyhouse, in addition to the assistance from a wealthy and grateful client, enabled Jed to send his gifted son, Samuel, to university. From there, Samuel Theron became friends with Mayer ‘Suza' Bechtel who went on to form an industrial conglomerate and persuaded Samuel, a physicist, to join him.

Suza, who never married, left his share of the company to Samuel, who married Suza's sister after Suza's death. By the time Caspar was born, Samuel had built up Theron-Bechtel Mining & Industrial Resources into one of the largest companies in America. Caspar's son, Justin, took over the helm upon Caspar's retirement and promptly found himself in a court battle with a distant Bechtel relative who claimed his Grandfather Samuel had left him shares in the company. Justin won and promptly dropped the Bechtel name from the company, simplifying it to Theron Inc.

* * * * *

The men of M31 gathered on the front porch, all dressed for Caspar's big evening. Adam had returned awhile ago and Quinn was surprised to see him get into the car with them en route to the heliport for the short flight to Orange County where Jax's parents lived.

"He wouldn't dare miss Caspar's celebration," Jax had said when Quinn remarked on it. "He'd never hear the end of it from his mother. And mine."

They were all sated and in a good mood, their light-hearted banter continuing through out the short drive to the heliport. It was like that all the way on the drive from the heliport to the Theron residence in Laguna Beach. Adam had ridden with Jax in his Jag convertible to the heliport while Quinn had opted to ride with the others in the Yukon.

 "You're kidding me." Quinn asked, when their car stopped outside the Theron home at the end of Monte Carlo Drive. "This is your parents' house?" Quinn's mouth fell open. "This house is famous around architectural circles! But I've never seen it listed as belonging to Justin Theron. As far as we know, it belongs to the Arcadian Foundation."

"It was commissioned by Caspar, believe it or not." Jax's lips twisted wryly. "And being the stickler for privacy that he is, he forbade any mention of who it belongs to until he's dead. The Arcadian Foundation is just one of the vehicles in the family investment trust group."

The ultra-contemporary design was designed by the late John Lautner's protegee, Helene Arahuete. Quinn knew from photographs he'd seen during its construction stage and before the owners moved in, the  house was beyond the imagination of mere mortals. John Lautner was the god of contemporary architecture and Arahuete was certainly a worthy successor. He wondered how he'd incorporate some of the ideas for a tree house.

"Come on." Jax put his arm on Quinn's back. "Let's go greet the birthday boy." Both men were in their tuxedos - Baxter had had to rent one for Quinn - and stood taller than most of the men in the Theron mansion that night.

Jax led the slack-jawed Quinn through the first level, passing inner waterways that arced out over the edge of the cliff and took him to another level slightly higher. They entered a circular room enclosed almost 360 degrees with reinforced glass overlooking the Pacific. There, Caspar Theron held court. Surrounded by friends and a few family members. Caspar spotted Jax  immediately.

"Heh. The Prodigal Grandson." Caspar grinned as the small crowd parted to let Jax through.

"Happy Birthday, Grandpa." Jax bent to kiss the old man's cheek and felt knarled fingers on his own. He took the liver-spotted hand and kissed it. "Grandpa, this is Quinn Masterson-Knight"

Quinn moved forward and took Caspar's hand, surprised at the strong grip. "A happy and prosperous birthday to you, Mr. Theron. Thank you for letting me join the celebration."

"Happy?" Caspar's white beetled brows lifted. "I'll be happy if you can persuade my grandson to return to the family business where he belongs. As for prospering, at the last count, I have more than ten billion dollars in assets." He leaned forward to whisper loudly to Quinn, "they don't like me talking about money. Say it's vulgar...but we Therons came from lowlifes who made good and besides, I'm almost a century old, so who the fuck -"

"Dad!" Justin's voice cut Caspar off.

"See what I mean?" Caspar said to Quinn. "So how come I haven't seen you until now?"

Quinn stole a quick glance at Jax. This was what he'd been afraid of. Who was he here? He'd attended such lavish affairs as a bodyguard, waiter, chauffeur and lowly assistant but never as a real guest. Even at Petrovsky's party, he didn't feel as if he was one of them.

"Quinn is my partner, Grandie," Jax said. "So you'll be seeing more of him and yes, be happy because I am seriously considering returning to Theron Inc."

"You are?" It was Justin who spoke this time. "That's good to hear, son. You're missed."

"Thanks, Dad. Mom, Dad, I'd like you to meet Quinn Masterson-Knight."

Katherine Theron smiled and extended her hand, looking at Quinn inquisitively. "How lovely to meet you at last, Quinn."

 _At last?_ "Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Theron." Quinn took the small hand in his large one and brought it up to his lips." _So that's where Jax got his striking blue eyes._

"Justin. Pleasure to meet you, Quinn." Justin shook Quinn's hand. "We hear you're part of KnightShade, too."

"Yes, Mr. Theron." Quinn replied. "I joined them just a few weeks ago. How did you know?"

"Your father is a second father to Jax. He told us about you and we're very happy, if not a little surprised, he's taken to fatherhood so well."

"Oh Justin." Katherine cut in. "It's not as if Quinn's a baby."

"Oh, he can be if I don't pay him enough attention," Jax said, sliding an arm around Quinn's waist. Quinn glared at him. "Would you excuse us, Grandie. Dad. I need to go do my duty to the aunts and uncles who are waving for attention. I'll see you later. C'mon, Quinn."

Caspar harrumphed at his youngest grandson and gave him a parting shot. "I may not be getting any great grandchildren from you but I still expect a grandson-in-law before I kick the family bucket!"

"Hush, Dad." Katherine shushed her husband's father. "You're embarrassing Quinn."

Jax cast a glance at Quinn as they walked away.

"Is he drunk?" Quinn asked. "He's sharp as a tack so I know he's not senile."

"Not drunk or senile." Jax muttered. "Just a nonagenarian gremlin."

They reached the bar and Jax asked for whisky on the rocks. "Make that two." Quinn told the bartender. "Tell me about the great granddad."

"You really want to know?"

"Just making conversation." Quinn smiled wryly. "I'm feeling a little out of my league here, alright?" He'd caught sight of a few Hollywood actors and politicians apart from the usual assortment of financiers and industrialists. The bling was blinding him and the wait staff looked more at home than he ever would.

 Jax nodded. "Thanks for coming. We don't have to stay long."

"I'll be fine. A little over-awed but it's not just the people here. It's this amazing house. I'd love to come back another day just to check it out."

"I'm sure my mother would just love to have you over for tea. Or lunch. Anything, as long as she can pump you for some info."

"And I really am curious about Caspar's father."

Jax looked Quinn as if considering what to say. "My great grandfather and the original founder of our family company, Mayer Bechtel, were lovers at a time when such a liaison would get them lynched. Suza, as Bechtel was called, died at the age of fifty following a riding accident and Suza's spinster sister approached him one day, proposing that they marry. It would give her protection from unwanted suitors and allow her to run the company which was her passion, anyway. Samuel agreed because Suza had asked him to do this before but Samuel had balked."

"But he did," Quinn remarked. "Marry her, I mean. And even had children. At least one - your grandfather."

"Yes. Their only child. Don't ask me the details but he obviously was able to deposit enough Theron sperm in Thalia for one to do its job."

"So it's not just your parents who know you're gay."

Jax tipped the glass to his lips and scanned the crowd. "The Therons have this odd trait - we believe our personal lives are our private business even though we're oddly close. Strange, considering my mother's part Italian and when it comes to family, nothing's private for them. We're atypical, I guess."

Like you, Quinn was thinking.

"I never saw the need to declare my sexuality one way or another." Jax flicked Quinn a glance. "I have a cousin who's bi. Morgan. I'm sure he's here somewhere."

"Yes, I remember. Head of your Leisure and Entertainment."

"We probably have more gay relatives somewhere around the globe, I'm sure, but the straight Therons are disgustingly fertile so no danger of the bloodline dying out. Not that it matters anymore these days."

"You could have given me some warning, you know." Quinn told him. "I wasn't expecting to be introduced as your partner."

Jax shrugged.

"They don't think you meant business partner, do they?"

"No, they don't but so what if they did, Quinn? You know what you are to me and that's all that matters." He gave Quinn a kiss in full view of the guests and relatives that left no doubt as to what Quinn was to him. "Indispensable. That's what you are." he added, lifting his head the rather embarrassed Quinn.

"Jax!" A swirl of pale yellow flew into Jax's arms and Quinn heard him laugh.

Jax set down his whisky before it splashed all over his sister's dress. "Hey there." He hugged her and gave her a smacking kiss on the cheek. "You look more gorgeous every day I see you."

"You're such a bullshitter." She smacked his arm. "I'd have a heart attack if you stuck around enough to see us once a _month_." She looked at Quinn. "And _who_ is this you were lip-locking with?"

"Quinn, my sister Marielle. Marielle, Quinn Masterson."

"Hel-lo-o." Marielle's eyes looked at Quinn curiously, as if trying to dig out secrets. "I've not met you before. Jax never brings anyone to any of our functions except his boy toys and I grew up with most of them so I'm curious about you. You must be awfully special for Jax to bring you to a family function _and_ kiss you in front of everyone." She turned to her brother. "How could you not tell me!"

"Because it's none of your business." Jax replied smoothly before Quinn even opened his mouth. "Hard to believe you've managed to achieve all you have with _that_ mouth." He turned to Quinn. "I'm hungry. Let's go get some food. I'll see you around, kid." Giving Marielle a quick hug, he sauntered off, not waiting for Quinn.

"Ja-ax." His sis whined.

He merely gave a back-handed wave, not even stopping.

Quinn caught up with him a moment later, managing to extricate himself from Marielle. "Your sister invited me to lunch tomorrow. I told her I had other plans already. She asked if they involved you."

Jax's brows drew together. "She asked you that?"

"Yes, I was surprised after what you'd just told me about your family."

Jax lifted a shoulder, dismissing his sister's unusual behavior. "I suppose it's understandable. I have never brought anyone to a family function, as she said. Not friend, not date. The team doesn't count since they're considered family and she obviously doesn't know you're part of the team."

"Sounds like you're glad I didn't accept."

Jax looked at him. "That's your choice. Doesn't make any difference." He waited a beat. "Does it?"

Quinn shook his head. "No, not to me. I didn't want to be rude to her but I also didn't know what you'd be comfortable with. I'm still feeling my way through the dynamics of  everything. The guys and you, with each other...are you all out to everyone, that kinda thing." He piled his plate with slices of roast beef, Jax doing the same. "And somewhere I"m part of this. You also just outed us awhile ago but I need a bit of time to get my head around it, okay?"

"Hey, Jax." An unfamiliar voice interrupted Quinn and he found himself eyeball to eyeball with a good-looking man dressed in whatever designer suit these people wore to their parties.

"Morgan!" Jax put his plate down and grabbed the other man in a one-arm hug. "How've you been? Playing Tarzan still? You still seeing that Italian stallion Marielle told me about?"

"And what would your sister know about stallions of any kind, much less mine?" Morgan's brow canted up. "Dino's my personal trainer. Nothing else. He's totally besotted with someone else."

"If you say so. Hey, I want you to meet Quinn. Morgan's my cousin." He told Quinn.

Morgan eyed Quinn curiously but stretched out his hand, nevertheless. "Pleased to be meet you."

"Hi, Quinn Masterson."

"So, how are you doing?" Jax asked his cousin. "The Amazon project still on?"

"Yes, it is. I'm flying to Manaus tomorrow to do a final recon of the property we've selected. If all goes well, we should acquire it within the next couple of months."

"Morgan's the CEO of our Leisure & Entertainment division. His resort development project is his current raison d'être for living. Quinn builds tree houses."

"Hey." Morgan eyes brightened with interest. "Any experience in commercial?"

"It's mostly what I did."

"Not anymore?"

"I took a long hiatus but will be returning to my company eventually." Maybe earlier than he thought. He was fully recovered and could always keep an eye on the search for Dante from Artistree. He had to talk to Alex about that, though. There was still those guys out to get him. Progress was also slow where Dante was concerned but if KnightShade was having trouble getting anywhere, he'd get zilch on his own so he hadn't said anything. Besides, things had changed so much between Jax and him and he needed to talk to Jax about what he wanted to do, career-wise.

"Have you heard of Artistree?" Morgan asked.

"Yes, that's my company."

"Artistree? I'm impressed." Morgan turned to Jax. "Artistree is in this year's top ten list of award-winning landscaping companies in the US."

"My step-father started it. When he passed away, my uncle and cousins helped me take over running it."

Morgan took out his card case. "We're planning to build a tree house concept resort and are about to finalize the purchase of a piece of property. Would your company be interested in designing and building it?"

"I'm sure we would." Quinn replied. "But it depends on your expected completion date and Artistree's schedule, of course."

"Here's my card. Give me a call and we'll talk details."

"Morgan." Some one called out.

"John." Morgan smiled in greeting. "How are you?" Morgan introduced Haslinger to Quinn. Haslinger shook his hand but otherwise showed no sign of having met Quinn before.

"You're looking rested," Haslinger said to Jax. "Your venture with Alex must be working out.

Jax bared his teeth in a grin. "Working out better than I expected. What about you?"

"Same old. Same old. Can't complain, though. The Wall St reform bill's finally signed so that'll give us a bit of quiet. Twenty-four hours, if we're lucky, before the next disaster strikes." Haslinger stopped a passing waiter and took a glass of champagne from his tray. "How about you, Quinn? What do you do besides hanging out with these pretty boys?"

Quinn growled inside but chuckled out loud and stole a look at Jax. "I'm a tree house designer."

"Really." Haslinger's well-shaped brows went up. "How fascinating. Tell me more about that."

"Excuse us, gentleman." Jax interrupted. "Morgan and I need to get over to Caspar. I see our mothers waving for our attention." Morgan groaned but followed him. Once he'd moved out of sight from Haslinger, Jax took out his KnightFone.

* * * * *

"So, which firm are you with?" Haslinger asked Quinn as Jax left them.

"Artistree." Quinn replied. "Sorry, I didn't bring any cards tonight." His KnightFone vibrated and he dug it out. "Would you excuse me?" he said to Haslinger and answered.

"We want to know where he's going to be, what he'll be doing over the next few weeks," Jax said. "Failing which, just get on his good side and wrangle a lunch or something."

Quinn smiled into his phone. "Yes, I will pick you up in the morning. Good night, mom." He pocketed the phone and turned back to Haslinger. "Sorry, my mother Yes, I was saying...I have my own landscaping company and we started our tree house division five years ago. If you want to get one built for the kids, let me know."

"As a matter of fact, I do know of someone who'd be interested. Do you take on international jobs?"

"Yes, we do. We collaborated with Strongton & Brockley on Allsworth Park in Northumberland, UK, and smaller ones for corporations."

"What about private clients? For personal use?"

"We built one for the Sultan of Brunei, if that's good enough a reference."

Haslinger laughed. "My friend isn't in that league but he's got deep enough pockets. If you are interested, I'll have his office call you to set up a meeting. Here's my card. Give me your contact number. I'll save it on my cell phone now."

"Any idea what size your friend's thinking of?" Quinn asked after they exchanged numbers.

"Not as large as the one at Allsworth but I don't know. It could be. He wants something as a retreat for himself and his close associates. It'll be in the Philippines. Would that be a problem?"

"Shouldn't be." Quinn responded. "But we'd work with a local architectural firm as usual. They'd cut down the time getting past the usual red tape. Tell your friend to contact me."

"I will. Have you done any business in the Philippines?" Haslinger asked.

"Nothing major. Have some friends there but I haven't been back in awhile. How about you?"

"I have several friends there and do business there as well. In fact, I'll be in Manila next week. A business associate's son is getting married. Ceferino Yuhuangco." Haslinger said the name as if it said it all.

And it did. The third richest man in Asia after his eldest son married into the Malhotra family and his daughter married into the Li family of Beijing. The mergers weren't limited to their families but resulted in their creating a giant steel as well as telecommunications company that spanned the Indian sub-continent and the Chinese mainland. "Which son is getting married next weekend and which empire?"

"The youngest son, Julian. Marrying the youngest granddaughter of Mexican property and telecommunications billionaire, Carlos Mendez."

 "Big mergers. I suppose the corporate ones will follow."

Haslinger grinned but didn't confirm or deny.

"So is that going to be a business trip as well or you're just flying there for the wedding?" Quinn asked.

"Just about a week until the wedding on Saturday next. I have too many commitments to stay longer. You'll have to excuse me but I need to speak to someone. Quinn," he held out his hand. "Pleasure to meet you. Perhaps we could have lunch before I fly out? I'm intrigued by this tree house building thing you do.

"I'm rather intrigued with it myself." Quinn responded. "Lunch would be good. Name a day and place and I'll be  there."

"Would this Monday suit you?"

"Monday's good. Where?"

"French Affair? Twelve-thirty?"

Quinn nodded. "I'll see you there." He shook Haslinger's hand and watched the older man walk away, stop to speak to other guests before opening the French doors and stepping out into the terrace.

Jax rejoined Quinn, handing him a glass of champagne. "How did that go?"

"Pretty good, I think. He'll be in Manila next Tuesday to attend a wedding the coming weekend. He's interested in my tree houses."

"Manila, huh." Jax murmured. "Better than I expected then."

"I'm also having lunch with him on Monday."

That brought on a frown from Jax. "Why?"

Quinn shrugged. "Wants to know more about tree houses?"


	32. PART TWO – Chapter  31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caspar gives his short birthday speech and Alex makes an announcement. Things are getting somewhere for Haslinger and Taggart.
> 
> Meanwhile, the tracking unit Jax put in Sundhvist's shoe back in Tangier is in Manila. It is now clear everything is converging in the Philippines, confirming M31's conclusion that the Asian country is the next target.

The loud tinkle of a spoon against a glass sounded through the speakers. The room quietened and the two men watched Alex push Caspar in his wheelchair up the narrow slope to the dais. Justin and Katherine Theron flanked him as the other members of the clan joined them on the stage. Quinn spotted Haslinger coming back into the room to lean against the wall, taking another drink from the waiter.

"Friends...business associates...family." Caspar began. "I'm going to be polite tonight and thank you for coming. You weren't informed, were you, that this is also a celebration for my Alex's birthday. I'm afraid I haven't the faintest idea why he can't have his own party. You'll have to ask him that.

Katherine, my dear daughter-in-law, has, I'm sure, to provided you with the best finger food and plonk money could possibly buy and I'm equally sure when she gets to my age, she'll insist, as I did, that hotdogs would have done." Laughter followed that and Caspar held up a hand. "But - I said I would be good tonight so waiters!" He jabbed his finger at the wait staff, "keep the Beluga and Dom Perignon coming." He peered over the crowd, looking for someone. "Jax. Where are you, m'boy?"

Jax waved, walking towards the stage and leaping up. "Yes Grandie?" He bent over his grandfather. "I have an announcement," Caspar said into the mike. "I am turning over my shares in Theron-Knight Atomics to Jax. Most of you here tonight will not know that he's behind much of the growth of the company. See it as a bribe, if you will," he looked up at Jax, his gray eyes twinkling with mischief. "But I'm hoping it will be incentive enough for you to give it your full-time attention. Imagine what you'd be able to accomplish if you weren't straddling the two. Hell, it's like juggling a wife and mistress! High time you get your ass home and left Alex to look after his own baby." Caspar said. "As for me, I will be moving to Hawaii. I've a yen to surround myself with those lithe girls and tanned boys and have a Hawaiian send-off when the time comes. But Alex here has something quite delicious to announce so thank you all for coming and goodnight." The guests applauded and Jax wheeled his grandfather down from the dais.

Justin waved Alex forward, handing the mike to him. "All yours, Alex."

"First," Alex began. "A toast to the inimitable Caspar." He held up his glass and the guests rose to their feet. "To your amazing good health, Caspar, and may Hawaii enjoy your company as much as I have all these years. Happy Birthday, Caspar!" Justin, Jax and his siblings followed, toasting the beloved old man and each one giving him a kiss.

"And a very happy birthday to Alex," Jax cut in and raised his glass. "my friend and confidante without whom I would not be alive today."More cheers and applause followed.

When everyone finally sat back down, Alex picked up where he'd left off. "As Caspar said, it's time I handled my own business and released Jax to return to his heritage. I'm sure Caspar knows we'd planned for this even before I brought him on board KnightShade. While I don't dispute Jax's invaluable contribution to Theron-Knight Atomics' growth, KnightShade USA wouldn't be half what it is today if he hadn't come in and given his two cents worth. Believe me, he's not just a pretty face.

"While I will likely be losing him to Theron-Knight, I have the good fortune to have something to take my mind off that loss - my son, Quinn." Loud murmurs greeted that piece of news. "Quinn?" Alex hailed him over.

Quinn cast Jax a bemused glance and caught the latter's own puzzlement in his expression. Stepping up onto the stage, he went over to Alex, tension in every step. He looked over the sea of curious faces.

"I'm pleased to introduce you to my son, Quinn -"

Haslinger listened as Alex recounted how he'd met Quinn's mother thirty-three years ago. Haslinger slipped out of the room before Alex was even finished.

* * * * *

"Yes, that's what I said." Haslinger hissed into his cell phone. "Quinn Masterson is Knight's son." He recounted what he'd heard after which both he and his caller were silent for several moments.

"Well, I have news for you, too." Taggart hissed. "I just found out that Masterson is suffering from a case of trauma-related amnesia. A combination of two types, apparently, which means he can't remember where he was before and what he was doing before his injuries right up to immediately after."

"This explains why it's taken them so long to start sniffing around. Vargas must have slipped him something."

"Whatever Vargas may or may not have given him, Masterson may start remembering and naming names." Taggart pointed out. "Bradley and Vargas may be dead but once they start digging, your name's going to come out and so will mine. Masterson's bound to mention seeing you with me at that damned party and everything will blow up."

"He's not showing any signs of having seen me before," Haslinger said, "I'm telling you all that effort we went to last year was a waste of time."

Taggart gave a sigh. "How many times have we reiterated the fact that we can't be too careful? Just think how many agents our subsidiaries have neutralized over the years and don't _you_ forget there's still someone out there leaking information and someone out there is passing it along to the people who don't believe in our cause. So, no I do not consider setting Masterson up last year a waste of time and expenses. Besides, as you said, look what a stroke of good fortune that turned out to be. Now stop being so aggravating and go back to the party."

"So what's the next step?" Haslinger asked. "Now that we aren't going to kill him."

"The recent purchase cost us a bundle," Taggart said. "we need a top-up so we hold Masterson ransom. Theron will pay. Their relationship is obviously more than just colleagues and now we have an even better bargaining point. Both father and lover will pay through their nose to get him back intact."

"I must say I didn't expect us to get this lucky." Haslinger conceded. "I was going to insist we kill him and be done with it but, as you say, tonight's revelation has changed the picture considerably."

"We'll have to move things forward," Taggart said. "I'm going to call a meeting and recommend that we reschedule. How close is Egorov?"

"As at this morning they are four days to destination. The shipment is intact." Haslinger told Taggart, as he kept an eye on the party still going strong inside. "I'm having lunch with Masterson on Monday. I'll get him on the plane with me and we'll see you at the embassy cocktail in Manila."

"How do you plan to do that, if I may ask?"

"I'll tell him you want to commission him to design a tree house retreat for Taggart Ministries. It'll be for charitable purposes, the usual shit, lots of publicity for Artistree. Leave it to me. If you're lucky, you'll have him in your hands before the week's over."

"At least I don't have to worry about Zhuravylov anymore," Taggart said. "Once I tell him who Masterson is, he'll be itching to get him hands on him. If Masterson could have cost us our plans, Zhuravylov would have ordered him killed and washed his body down along with the rest of the human detritus." The Philippine government  - the new one, that is - should reward the White Phoenix for getting rid of their slums, Taggart thought to himself. Their plan would have cleaned out the city for them to start fresh. "I don't care if he's building a replica of the Malacanang Palace for a Filipino Tarzan and Jane," He told Haslinger. "Just get him on the plane to Manila. He's now worth infinitely more alive than dead."

We'll work on the details in the meantime. Call me when you've got Quinn confirmed."

"You know I will." Haslinger pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering why he got tangled up with Taggart instead of one of the other leaders.

"Meanwhile be ready to move the attack forward to possibly Monday the 21st. I'll get back to you on that. With the latest news, we don't have any choice. Masterson may just decide to remember before we move and I'm not risking that." There was a pause. "Don't lose him this time, John."

* * * * *

Many of the guests were still partying but the birthday boy had left as soon as Alex had made his surprise announcement, leaving Quinn and Alex inundated with questions. His family had remained typically restrained, offering quiet congratulations to Quinn and Alex.

Quinn was also introduced to Jax's twin brothers, Marcus and Maxwell, who looked over Quinn curiously and asked him how long he and Jax had been together. Their surprise was to be expected when Quinn told them he and Jax had only met a couple of weeks ago.

"I'm sure we'll be seeing you around more, then." Marcus said. "Jax has never brought any date home."

"Much less kissed him, or her, in front of the entire clan, including friends and media."

"Media?" Quinn asked.

"Yes, but only one, with the proviso that she stay discreet and wait for us to release the photos to her before publication and her phone was confiscated."

* * * * *

"You okay?" Jax asked, as they climbed into his convertible for the drive back from the heliport back to La Jolla. The rest of the team were just behind them in the Yukon.

"Yeah." Quinn blew out a breath and slid down his seat, hands folded on his belly. After that family event, all he wanted to do was climb up a tree-house and hibernate for awhile. "He didn't tell me he was going to make the announcement."

"He's got a reason," Jax said. "Don't doubt we'll get a call in the morning." His phone chirped a moment later. Alex, the caller ID showed. "Looks like we don't have to wait till morning." He answered the call. "Alex. You escaped. We're on our way home." He pressed the button to bring the hood up to cut out the noise.

Alex saw the amber light on his KnightFone come on as Jax answered, indicating he had another team member with him. "Who's with you?"

"Just Quinn. You're on speaker."

"The attempt to get Quinn in Tangier, has been traced to Taggart. His Manila office. V-1's also due to reach Luzon on Thursday if they keep to their current speed. So I thought we'd give them an incentive to move a little faster, show their hand."

"Haslinger."

"That's right. I'm sure the news of Quinn being my son will get them scrambling to come up with another plan. My guess is that they'll try to get him out of the US for another attempt. There's more. Quinn?"

"I'm here."

"We've got something on Dante." Alex could hear Quinn shifting, likely to get closer to the phone. "According to records that were sealed by Bradley just before his death, Dante was leading a mission to rescue Gregory Petrovsky's children. They were kidnapped by Vargas --"

"Vargas!" Jax interrupted.

"Yes, and Haslinger's believed to be behind it."

"How does that tie in with me?" Quinn asked. "I know Petrovsky but I haven't done any assignments for him since I quit Raven Resources."

"Dante was the one who called me, remember?" Alex asked. "That was around the same day - give or take a day - that the Petrovsky kids were returned to their parents. I spoke to Petrovsky myself earlier this evening but all he could tell me was that Dante was heading the mission, that the children confirmed it was Vargas who had abducted them.

"If Dante was handling that rescue mission, and he dropped off your half-dead body afterwards, stands to reason you could be involved somehow. At any rate, you're connected to Dante at the same time as the abduction which involves Haslinger.

"And Vargas is dead so he can't give us any answers," Jax added.

"Who's Vargas?" Quinn asked. "Should I know him? ‘Cos he sounds familiar."

"Owns a resort in Spain. Dabbles in arms, heavy into human trafficking." Jax replied. "He was found dead in his home in Rio the same day his bodyguard was."

"When was this?" Quinn asked.

"A couple of weeks after Dante called me." Alex answered. "So yes, these guys are all tied in with you and two of them M31's been tracking for years."

"So what do you want me to do when I meet Haslinger tomorrow?"

The last thing Alex wanted was to get Quinn involved in Operation Sirin but it was getting to the point where they didn't have a choice. "Just hear him out be open to whatever he offers. We'll have you commed up and will advise you as we go along."

"Will do."

They ended the call and the two men stayed silent for a fair distance until Quinn broke it. "My flashbacks are getting stronger."

Jax glanced at him. "Anything helpful?"

Quinn sucked in a breath. "Not really. It's more the feelings that are stronger. Sharper. I'm recalling how I felt, not data. Not dates or names or events. And the dreams are the same. I feel rather than know or see, if you know what I mean."

"What are you feeling? That might give us a clue."

"Pain. Hurt. Good feelings that get overtaken by bad ones. Terrifying ones. I feel that there's someone there I like...am attracted to then it changes to hurt, like a betrayal."

"Some past lover? Found out she was married?"

"No, it's a ‘he'. I feel his hands on me. His lips. His..." Quinn trailed off.

"Yet you've never had a male lover until now."

"Not even a brief encounter." Quinn confirmed.

Jax drove on in silence, thinking over what Quinn had told them so far concerning his flashbacks. "There's a connection between your lost week and Haslinger. I mean, look at this - your friend, Dante, is connected to Vargas and we know Vargas was involved with Taggart and Haslinger in shady arms deals. I wouldn't be surprised if he supplied them with sex toys, too." Jax looked at Quinn. "Yeah, the human kind."

"And Bradley was killed shortly after Dante left me at the warehouse."

"Vargas, too."

Quinn nodded. "Vargas, too."

"So I don't think it's far-fetched to assume you have some connection to the White Phoenix you don't know about and whatever that is, it ties in to your lost week."

"And the flashbacks?"

"Indicate whatever went down, it must have involved someone who made an impression on you. Someone you had sex with. Who betrayed you."

"Thanks. That makes me so much better." Quinn's mouth twisted in a parody of a smile.

"Could have been Vargas?"

"No way."

"How do you know? You can't remember. You could have gone to Spain for your vacation, met Vargas and hit it off. You thought it could lead somewhere but something happened and you discovered he was a scumbag."

"And I lost my memory because of a broken heart?" Quinn made a rude noise.

"We're getting closer, in any case." Jax pointed out. "Detective work usually takes weeks, if not months and some mysteries aren't solved after years and years. I figure two weeks is pretty good considering we're tracking down a man whose trained to disappear and not be found. And don't forget, Dante's very likely still alive and will turn up when he's ready  to."

Quinn nodded then flashed a smile. "You're right. We'll see what Monday's lunch with Haslinger brings. Meantime, I want to enjoy my weekend."

"We're home," Jax said, pulling into their driveway. Theirs was the only vehicle in the garage and only a few lights were on in the house, the ones that were on timer. He put the car into park but didn't get out. Instead, he wrapped his hand around Quinn's neck and pulled him in for a long, slow kiss.

When they parted, neither man pulled away.

"I could kiss you every night and day and still not get enough." Jax murmured against Quinn's lips, feeling them curl in a smile.

"Getting romantic here, aren't we?"

Jax pushed off, opened the door and cocked a brow at him, his features thrown into relief by the small bit of light. "Okay, so the Neanderthal touch works better with you, does it? That can always be arranged."

"Ever been fucked against a Jag before?" Quinn asked roughly, reaching for Jax's zipper.

"Um, yes actually. He's a military judge now. Was a JAG lawyer for ten years."

"Very funny, Theron." Quinn rasped, his fingers making quick work of the zipper.

A moment later, Jax was feeling the cool breeze whisper across his naked ass. A shiver of anticipation ran up his spine as he heard the rasp of Quinn's zipper. "Lube." He hissed. "You're too fucking big to do without it." Before he could finish, he felt the slide of a slicked-up finger up his crack. "You're carrying lube in your pocket now?" Jax chuckled deeply but that changed to a muffled gasp and curse as his ass was breached without warning. There were no more words spoken after that. The only sounds between them was the slap of balls against ass, the harsh gasps and the desperate sucks of air until finally, Jax cried out, pumping his own cock and spilling himself into his hand. Hearing him come, Quinn let go and rammed his own cock into Jax, reveling in the feel of the hard body against him and  moments later, emptied himself into Jax.

When the rest of the team drove up a couple of  minutes later, Quinn was still slumped over Jax's back against the Jag, their pants around their ankles. The inevitable ensued,. What else.

* * * * *

Sunday was another cool, sunny day uninterrupted by any calls but there was a tension in the air which Quinn sensed even though no one said anything. Even the light bantering that usually went on between Hekyll and Jekyll was missing.

Whatever the cause, Quinn joined the men in the gym, down in the basement, and worked it off. For him, it wasn't just the lunch with Haslinger tomorrow that he was thinking about. In fact, that didn't worry him much. It was his feelings for Jax that was scaring him. He was supposed to be able to walk away once his mission to find Dante was over. Yet, as each day had gone by, he'd settled into the life with the men as if he were born into it and had found himself feeling for Jax in a way he hadn't for anyone. Sure, he'd told Jax he wasn't planning on going anywhere but a lot of things said just before and after great sex was suspicious, at best. Even though Jax had announced their relationship to everyone, just about, what exactly did that mean to the man?

Quinn expelled a breath. No use denying it. His fucking grand plan had backfired. He was in love with Jax Theron and it scared the shit out of him.

 

_ Monday,  _

_ Jax's office, KnightShade Comcen _

Jax heard the knock on the door but didn't bother looking up when the door opened.  Only when Quinn came around the table to where he was pecking away at his keyboard did he look up, a smile dimpling his cheeks.

Quinn bent down to kiss him but before Quinn could pull away, Jax clasped the back of Quinn's head, keeping Quinn's mouth trapped against his. "Mmm," he murmured against the firm lips. He slipped his tongue in-between Quinn's lips once again and felt the man give in to the kiss. Jax slid the other hand around Quinn's neck and pulled him down till he was practically laying on top of Jax. "You haven't fucked me in my office yet, have you?" Jax asked with a suggestive lift of his brow.

"No and I'm not going to either," Quinn said, pushing off from Jax. "Not right now, anyway. I came to tell you I'm going off for my lunch meeting with Haslinger and that Rohan's got me wired up."

"Yes, I told him to." Jax came around from his desk. "We want to know what he wants from you and rather than play for time the way Alex suggested, I figure we can manage it right there and then if we're commed-up."

Quinn nodded. "I agree. If he wants to hire me and that gives me more access to him, it would work in our favor, wouldn't it? We already agree he's got to be involved with my missing week somehow and you guys know he's part of the White Phoenix so I'm in Operation Sirin whether you like it or not. If we can get this bird off the ground faster, let's do it. If he tells me he wants me to jump, you tell me how high."

"That's the idea." Jax followed Quinn to the door. "Get back here as soon as you're done."

Quinn grinned at him. "Worried about me, are you?"

 _You have no idea,_ Jax grimaced inwardly at the thought but flashed Quinn a brilliant smile instead. "You're a big boy, Quinn. A _very_ big boy, I might add, and you can take care of yourself." He opened the door and called out to Baxter as Quinn left with a backward wave. "Bax, find Nick and Staz and tell them to get here in ten. I think they're down in the lab."

"Yes, they are. I'll get them." Baxter said. 

 

_ The French affair; 01220 hours, Monday _

The maître d' showed Quinn to a table towards the back of the restaurant. That suited him just fine. Less noise for the guys back at Comcen. With the kind of electronics they had, they'd be able to hear him fart.

Haslinger arrived a couple of minutes past twelve-thirty, sauntering in as if he owned the place. Maybe he did. They dispensed with the small talk, Haslinger asking if Quinn minded if they just had the daily special. Of course not. No wine either.

"I'll come right to the point, Quinn." Haslinger leaned forward as soon as the waiter left with their order. "A friend of mine saw your work and wants to commission you to design his retreat. It'll be for charity. A place Taggart Ministries can take underprivileged children in the Third World countries. A sort of fairytale place like Disneyland they'd never be able to experience otherwise. Artistree will have enormous publicity out of this if you accept." Haslinger paused. "

"Disneyland? A project this size, I wouldn't be able to commit without more details and consulting with the rest of the management."

"Of course. Which is why I'm going to suggest you fly to Manila with me tomorrow - yes, I know it's very short notice - and meet Taggart himself. He's there on his sabbatical, working on his new book. After you hear him out, maybe do a tour of what he and the ministry does, you decide his idea and Artistree's skills are not compatible then by all means fly back home or just enjoy a few days in the Philippines at Taggart's expense. There's a cocktail reception on Thursday, hosted by the US embassy. You would be meeting Taggart there. He's a guest of honor. It would be just the right place to meet him."

 _Say yes but hold off the flying with him. We'll get you there on our plane._ Jax's voice came soft but clear in Quinn's ear. Back in the office, Jax told Nick to have the KnightHawk, M31's jet, on standby.

"As I said, it _is_ short notice but I should be able to wrangle it," Quinn said. The waiter arrived with their appetizer and they waited for him to leave before resuming. "But Tuesday? No way. I have several important meetings to attend." He paused as if thinking. "Tell you what. I find my own way to Manila by Thursday in time for the cocktail. I can rearrange a few meetings but I can't cancel them."

"That would work, yes." Haslinger smiled. The waiter arrived to replace their appetizer plates with the main course.

"You may not know," Quinn said, cutting into his blackened cod. "But we have built several tree houses pro bono for charitable organizations though nothing of the scale I'm thinking you mean."

Haslinger nodded. "I'll take care of the accommodations, by the way."

 _Tell him you already have your own accommodation. Don't stay with him or Taggart_.

"I have an apartment in Manila," Quinn said on cue. "So I don't need a place, thanks. Just tell me where to meet you and Taggart and I'll be there."

"Fine." Haslinger nodded. "The cocktail's at the Makati Shangri-La Hotel. It's to promote better relations between Americans in the Philippines and their host country. You know...highlight the good we're doing towards the betterment of society and meeting the needs of the poor in the rural communities."

"And how do I gatecrash an embassy cocktail?"

"I'll obtain an invitation. It won't be a problem. Taggart will be receiving an award for his contribution to Philippine society so several multi-nationals and charitable organizations, including their sponsors will be in attendance."

"And that's where I come in," Quinn said. "Or Artistree, rather."

"Exactly."

The arrangements settled, they carried on eating, interspersing their mouthfuls with small-talk until coffee arrived.

"Well, Quinn." Haslinger placed his empty cup back on its saucer. "I must run. Thank you for meeting me. I appreciate it and Taggart will be pleased. He's a good friend and a respected man of God. I'll see you in Manila."

* * * * *

Back in KnightShade Comcen, Jax paced in his office. Nick had left to get Hekyll and Jekyll briefed and test their comms system for Operation Sirin-Manila, leaving Staz with Jax.

"He's doing alright." Staz assured Jax. His Ops Commander's frown eased somewhat but Staz could see he was still worried. "He'll do fine, boss. I heard how he handled himself in Tangier. Saved your hide, apparently."

"Not the same." Jax muttered. "He'll be playing with the big fish this time. For the first time, we'll be locking horns with the White Phoenix leaders. Before this, it was just their minions, middle-level goons. After eight years, we're about to walk into their nest. We don't need a novice screwing it up and getting himself killed in the process.

"It's Alex's son we're talking about here. He'll move heaven and earth to keep him safe. You heard him earlier," Staz said, referring to Jax's call to Alex after they'd confirmed Quinn's trip to Manila. "He's got half of M31 on the way to Manila as we speak.

"Speaking of that, the guy who attacked us in Tangier. Sundkvist. His tracking unit has him in Manila. We've got him under surveillance and our local team's on standby. The Philippine troops are also on high alert but playing it cool so the White Phoenix won't get spooked. We just sent off two teams this morning."

Jax lips twisting in a parody of a smile. "I can't let anything happen to him, Staz.."

"I know, Boss. Like I said, he'll be fine. He's a survivor, that one, and I'm pretty certain he'll come back in one piece, alive and kicking your ass."

"Talk about kicking my ass," Jax raked his fingers through his hair. "If he ever finds out I'm Luis, I'll be lucky if he doesn't hang it up to rot.


	33. PART TWO – Chapter  32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jax and Quinn have one last night together before our story moves over to the Philippines for the finale of Operation Sirin.

Jax had briefed Quinn the minute he returned from his lunch with Haslinger, telling him that he was remaining behind and would be directing Operation Sirin from KnightShade Comcen together with Alex. Tension had been high and the anticipation was causing the usual reactions  - sex had been frequent, fast and rough, taking place in Jax's office and had managed to take some of the edge off.

Quinn had fucked Jax one last time that night and the pensive air was something he'd never encountered in Jax before. "Know something?" he'd asked after they'd cleaned up and were back in bed.

"What?" Jax had snuggled up to him. _One last night before Quinn flew out._ What would it be like when Firebird was over? Jax had never ruminated this much over a mission. It had always been just a job to accomplish. This time, it really was about life and death in more ways than one. Quinn could return in a tin or they could actually have a life together. Luis would be dead and Jax would live but if it was without Quinn, he might as well take the bullets for real.

"I know it's only going to be a few days," Quinn said. "But I'll miss you." There. He'd said it. Now he waited, apprehensive about the response.

Jax raised himself up on an elbow and traced a finger down Quinn's cheek. There was a comfort he found in Quinn's company that had established itself quickly and naturally once they'd gotten past the initial uncertainties. The sex was amazing and Quinn had fitted into their lives. "Well, you know what?" It's only been about two weeks since we uhh, formally met - but I feel I've been waiting for you for helluva long time." He waited a beat. "All my life, it seems."

"Same here." Quinn had pulled Jax in for a kiss and it hadn't been just a meeting of lips or a tangling of tongues. It had been so much more. More than Quinn could ever have imagined giving and taking from another person.

"Quinn."

"Yeah?"

"Anything can happen in Manila," Jax said. "I need you to be prepared. These guys are -" his voice trailed off.

"Are what?"

"Have you ever dealt with the Yakuza? Triads?" When Quinn shook his head, Jax drew in a deep breath. "The White Phoenix is very closely affiliated with them, including the Mafia. I'm sure you know they have their rituals and customs."

"I've heard some. What about it? Will I have to drink blood from a live cockerel or something?"

"That's reserved for new members. As a guest, all you'd likely find is being in the middle of an orgy."

"Oh, that. Nothing new to me, is it?. But Taggart's there." Quinn pointed out. "I'm sure he'll be concerned about his reputation. What if I blabbed about what I saw or did?" He stopped for a second. "I'm not expected to come out alive, am I? I thought you said they want me alive?"

"Dead or alive, they aren't expecting you to come out and talk about anything you've seen or done. But this is what I need you to do-"

"What?"

"Whatever they want you to do, play along, okay? You need to keep them quiet and occupied so if they want you to fuck somebody, do it. Just hold on until oh two hundred hours. Friday morning. That's our scheduled hit but you'll get the final details when you arrive."

"And if they want someone to fuck me?"

 "Let him." Jax said softly. "Please." He pulled Quinn to him. "I need you to stay alive until we get you out. Just do what you have to do to stay alive until Nick comes for you. Nick will be there to get you and he won't leave without you. You got that? So stay alive for him. And for me."

"I'll do whatever it takes,"Quinn said, quietly. "I don't like it but I understand."

"I'm sorry," Jax said. "I'm sorry I didn't pull you out of this op and put someone else in."

"Hey, I asked for this assignment. Besides I know Manila. I speak the language and while I hate that I may have to have sex with some stranger, I'll do what I can do avoid it. And if it's inevitable, hell, it's going to be the last time I'll be in such a dilemma anyway.

"I was going to tell you later, when I got back but I might as well tell you now. Your cousin, Morgan, offered me a job and I'm going to take it."

  
"He did?" Jax was surprised. "When did he do this?"

"He called me when I was on my way back from Haslinger. "Said he's seen some of the stuff I did on tree houses on Artistree's website and would like me to work with him to build nature-themed resorts. I told him I'll meet him when I return."

"That's great." _I love you. I can't say it yet but I will. Soon._

Quinn snuggled into Jax's neck. _I love you._

"Quinn -"

"What?"

Jax turned his face towards Quinn, their lips just touching. He took a deep breath and parted his lips as if to say something but at the last moment, looked away. "You know what." He whispered. He wanted to tell Quinn he loved him but he couldn't. Not with Luis still out there. Not when Quinn was going to have to tangle with Luis.

Quinn pulled back to look at him for a few moments. Yes, he knew, but like Jax, thought it was too soon to verbalize it. "Yeah." He finally responded. "I know. We'll have that talk when I get back." And they'd held each other until they fell asleep.

* * * * *

Jekyll had stayed behind with Jax but Hekyll asked to be included even though the job he'd be doing could easily be handled by any of their comms techs. Everyone understood. They were that close to crippling the White Phoenix and Hekyll, responsible for much of the design of the new weapons in V-1, wanted to be right there when they dealt the blow.

V-1 was nearing Luzon and should reach the north-eastern coast by tonight, Jax said, going over the strategy one more time. They needed to find out where on the island the shipment was heading for and wouldn't have an idea until the ship dropped anchor.

If all went according to plan, Jax would be kissing the Firebird goodbye. And Quinn would be none the wiser. For both men's sakes, the rest of the team hoped it all worked out. But trained to accept the goat-fucks that invariably happened, they geared themselves up to lose one or both of the men.

* * * * *

_ Ninoy Aquino International Airport; _

_ Manila, Philippines _

Pushing his way through the crowd waiting for their relatives' arrival, Adam caught Quinn's eyes and waved.

Quinn's flight had touched down on Ninoy Aquino International late Wednesday night. Adam had flown in with the M31 team on the KnightHawk leaving yesterday morning and arriving in Manila hours ahead of Quinn.

"How do you feel?" Adam asked, clapping a hand on Quinn's shoulder.

"Need to stretch my legs a bit but other than that, feeling great.

"Good to hear." Adam returned quietly.

"Everything okay?"

Adam nodded. "Our driver's bringing the car round. Let me call in." He took out his KnightFone and called the house they were staying in. "He's with me. We're waiting for Bongo to bring the car round. Right. See you." Adam turned to Quinn. "Staz will update Comcen. Jax just called asking if you'd arrived." After a pause, he asked. "Looks like both of you have moved on considerably from the Southern Hole."

"We have." Quinn gave him a quick nod. He wiped a palm across his forehead. Even at this time of the night, it was warm and humid in Manila.

"Get your ass back in one piece, won't you? He's grown rather attached to it." Adam said as their car came to a stop next to them and Bongo hopped out. "In case you didn't know...but I'm sure you do."

Traffic not being what it normally was during the day, it took them only half an hour to reach their house at No. 1345 Caballero, Dasmarinas Village. Dasmarinas was considered the next most prestigious address in Manila after the neighboring Forbes Park and the KnightShade HQ here was a large, grey house deliberately designed to elicit no more than a glance, just another ‘70s-designed mansion. Huge but utterly lacking in charm. The two-story house had five bedrooms and a pool as well as a separate servants' quarters though the only one occupying those was Bongo.

Quinn said Hi to Hekyll who was using one of those garment steamers in the lounge and Staz was going over the plans with Nick. Shown to his room, Quinn took a shower then went down to join them.

Staz brought Quinn up to date on the location of V-1 and went over the mission plan once more. Quinn didn't blink when Staz, the mission leader, called it a night and both he and Nick followed Quinn into his room.

The next day, Quinn called Haslinger after lunch to tell him he'd arrived and whether he needed to pick up the invitation.

"No, just go to the registration at the main ballroom." Haslinger told him. "Your name's down already but security's extremely tight and because you're a last-minute addition, you'll be required to undergo a body check for hidden weapons and anything that could used as a weapon. I'll be there looking out for you to take you in so there won't be a problem."

 

_ 1900hours  Thursday _

_ Makati Shangri-La Hotel _

Quinn climbed up the sweeping stairway of the Makati Shangri-La towards the Rizal Ballroom. He spotted Haslinger standing by the reception table, chatting to a pretty Filipina.

"Hi, John."

"There you are." Haslinger turned and smiled.

"Sorry, I'm late." Quinn apologized. "I was in Quezon City and the traffic was much heavier than I expected."

"You always think you've given yourself sufficient time but something's always creating another obstruction elsewhere. It's the national pastime, I suspect."

"Good evening, sir." Maribelle, her name tag read, smiled brightly at Quinn. "Your name, sir?"

Quinn went through the registration process then the compulsory body scan and check.

"Is Reverend Taggart here yet?" Quinn asked.

"Yes." Haslinger replied. "Got here just before you did. Come, let me introduce you."

When they came up to Taggart and the group of men and women around him. Quinn immediately saw the Argentinean. Luis d'Aragon. He'd been told Luis would be here and as always, Quinn was not supposed to know him personally. He wondered of Luis would remember him from Tangier.

"Reverend Taggart." Haslinger interrupted the evangelist in mid-conversation. "I'd like you to meet Quinn Masterson-Knight."

Taggart turned and smiled widely, extending his hand. "Mr. Masterson-Knight! Welcome to Manila." He shook Quinn's hand, clasping his other hand over Quinn's. The temptation to overturn the subconscious power gesture was strong but Quinn let it pass.

"Thank you for inviting me, Reverend. Call me Quinn, please. I look forward to hearing your ideas for your project."

"You are welcome. We'll do that but tonight, unwind a little. Let me introduce you to Luis."

"Pleasure to meet you. I'm Quinn Masterson-Knight." The man did not seem to recall he'd met Quinn in Tangier recently and Quinn wasn't going to remind him.

Luis gave a quick nod and took the proffered hand. "That pleasure is now mine, Quinn. Luis Salinas Perona d'Aragon. Luis will do, of course."

Quinn expelled his breath. There it was again. The faint accent that struck a familiar cord, that touch. He'd met Luis before and it wasn't in Tangier. He knew the touch of that palm. He knew this man and he'd find out where. Had to be connected to his missing week. But where? He'd find out before he left the Philippines.

"You just arrived in Manila?" Luis asked Quinn.

"Yes. Just got in." Quinn replied. Looked like Luis either didn't remember him or didn't want to let it be known they'd met, which made his job infinitely easier.

"Mr. Masterson is here to discuss my idea of building a theme park for the underprivileged." Taggart told Luis.

"You are an architect, Quinn?" Luis asked.

"I'm a landscape architect by training and specialize in building tree houses. Reverend Taggart is thinking of incorporating a tree house type structure as part of his theme park and I'm here to see how that can be done."

They did the usual cocktail surfing until the MC called for everyone's attention. The US Ambassador to the Philippines, Kristie Kenny, gave the welcome and named several notable Filipino luminaries both in the private and public sector who had contributed to the alleviating of poverty in the country. There were more speeches, video presentations and pledges to the various causes. The flashes went off, applause rose and scattered, the wait staff in classic black and white, weaved in and out amongst the colored finery of the socialites and local celebutantes.

* * * * *

Quinn couldn't wait to get the evening over and done with. He itched to feel the soil between his fingers again, to breathe in the smell of the grass after the rain. To create. Not destroy.

"Quinn." Haslinger's voice jerked Quinn back to the present reality. "I'd like you to meet Mr. Zhuravylov."

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Zhuravylov. Quinn Masterson-Knight." _Shit._ They weren't expecting the Russian industrialist to be present. Why the hell was Jax not here? Luis had vanished, too. He held out his hand.

Zhuravylov laughed as if he'd just heard something funny. "Ivan. My name Ivan. So, John tells me you are here to build Billy a tree house."

"Not yet. I'm here to hear what Reverend Taggart wants and see if I can help him."

"So you will be here in the Philippines for how long?" Zhuravylov stopped a waiter and asked for a vodka neat.

"A few days." Quinn replied. "A week, at most."

"Wonderful. You must join us at my hacienda then," Zhuravylov said.

"I am honored, Ivan, but I will have to decline. My time will be taken up meeting with the Reverend."

"No, no. Perhaps he has not had time to tell you. We are all going up to my hacienda for the weekend. So it will work out well, da? We leave tomorrow. Return, perhaps Sunday or Monday."

"In that case, thank you." Quinn gave him a nod. "But let me still check with him. He is, after all, paying me for my time. It would only be right."

"Of course. Of course." Another guest claimed Zhuravylov's attention and he excused himself.

* * * * *

At the other end of the room, Taggart snagged Haslinger's arm. "What's the position of our shipment?"

"On the way to the dam. It should arrive at its destination by tomorrow noon."

Taggart nodded. "We're leaving in the morning. Something's developed as well." At Haslinger's questioning glance, Taggart brought his glass of lemonade to his lips and said quietly, "d'Aragon has another shipment. Apparently, it's the second half of what we purchased earlier last year but with enhancements and modifications. More interesting, a mid- terra satellite that will give us a 3-D look of the dam. In fact, any damn structure we want." He chuckled at his own pun.

The White Phoenix's plan for the Philippines was to create chaos in the Philippine capital and the northern island of Luzon where it was located. V-1 had the necessary type of explosives needed to blow up the three hydro-electric plants at the Angat-Ipo-La Mesa, Pantabangan and Magat dams as well as blow up the dams themselves. Those three were responsible for supplying power and water to the capital and the surrounding municipalities but it was a delicate balance. The destruction of the dams was to flood the capital and the provinces and the power outage had to be long enough for the White Phoenix to bring in its own army to install a new government. The damage would take weeks to repair, months even and the destruction to the country and its people would be felt for years. the White Phoenix's people didn't depend on the local economy for their livelihood. Or ‘lifestyle' would be a more apt word. Like the current elite, they'd still be jet-setting around the globe on White Phoenix jets, wearing designer togs to bed and dining on caviar and Moët & Chandon while the hoi polloi dug around the garbage heaps in Tondo.

"I know of the terra satellite," Haslinger. "But not a _mid_ -terra. What is it?"

"Apparently, it hovers one thousand feet above the target and sends back real-time activity. People. Transportation. Everything."

"You mean like the movie? Enemy of the State? That's Hollywood fiction." Haslinger fairly snorted.

"Luis showed me a video. Let's say it's convincing. And he can arrange for a demonstration this weekend." Haslinger tilted his chin at the tall Zegna-clad man making his way to them. "He's coming over with Ivan. Ask him yourself."

Luis stopped in front of the two men. Zhuravylov paused a few steps behind to air-kiss some women before joining the group.

"Luis," Haslinger said, when the Firebird joined them, keeping his voice low. "Billy's telling me about a rather incredible contraption you have."

When Luis merely lifted a brow but said nothing in response, Taggart intervened. "We are interested, no mistaking that." Taggart proceeded to describe the mid-terra sat's capabilities.

Luis listened to Taggart's explanation, impressed with the man's recall. Neither KnightShade nor the NSA had any such satellite, of course, though Theron-Knight Atomics was close to testing something almost as good. Irrelevant, nonetheless. Before the White Phoenix could get anywhere near a demo, even one rigged up for a sting, Operation Sirin would be over.

The last Jax had checked in with the team, V-1 had rounded off the northern tip of Luzon then turned down south. The ship had anchored off Baler Bay on the eastern side of the island and V-1 was loaded on a convoy of seven trucks. The only thing of significance with V-1's route was that the landing point was close to where Zhuravylov's house was. According to the tracking system, a large quantity was headed for the property and the rest split up into seven trucks. One took the northern route, heading westward along the Pantabangan-Canili-Basal-Baler Road. The other six were heading south.

The Angat-Ipo-La Mesa dam was further down south and was the main water and electricity supply to the Philippine capital. It was a logical conclusion that the White Phoenix was planning to blow up the dams. All three dams supplied water to the northern island and were important in the flood control of Manila, even the Magat dam which was up north. Its hydro-electric plant was connected to the Luzon power grid and was the peaking power plant for the island.

They'd immediately sent out a query for any troop movements in the municipalities and a reminder to the government to keep all investigations covert.

"I take it you are satisfied with the earlier shipment," Luis said, bringing his attention back to his companions.

"We are," Zhuravylov replied. "That's why we are interested in what else you have. I am impressed, Mr. d'Aragon. You have excellent quality in your inventory."

"I aim to please. Always." Luis smiled.

"Let's make that mutual." Zhuravylov smiled, placing his plump hand on Luis' shoulder. "We are going up to my hacienda in Aurora. I am expecting our other associates to arrive tomorrow evening. I recommend that you join us, Luis. It would be profitable for you."

"I don't doubt that," Luis said. _Just not in the way you think_. "I am honored to accept." His stomach clenched despite his outwardly calm. Finally, he could see an end. A climax. Nothing could stand in the way now. He'd slaughter the bloody bird, skin and roast it if need be but he wasn't going to miss this chance to not just cripple the White Phoenix but see that it never revived. This was one phoenix that wasn't going to rise from the ashes.

"Excellent! Excellent!" Zhuravylov beamed, his face getting blotchy, tiny beads of perspiration covered his forehead and upper lip despite the air-conditioning. "Speaking of excellence, Quinn is joining us. I saw him giving you the look," he said meaningfully.

"The look?" Luis furrowed his brow.

"Yes, _the_ look." Zhuravylov licked his lip. "The one that says he swings the other way. _Your_ way." He guffawed, drawing the attention of a few other guests nearby.

Haslinger looked disdainful, if not disapproving but smiled and agreed with Zhuravylov. "Ivan is right," he said to Luis. "We all need our diversions from time to time."

"What makes you think Quinn will be willing to be diverted?" Luis asked.

"His will doesn't come into it." Zhuravylov stated flatly, his jovial demeanor suddenly gone. "Earlier, he was just an expensive whim of my colleague -" he eyed Taggart, "but now, he is infinitely useful. Now, I heard you have a taste for more lively game so I invited him."

Luis smiled. _Shit. Not again._ "Actually, your informants are outdated." Luis told him. "I've decided seduction is a talent I would like to hone and indulge in for the moment. Non-consent is terribly passé."

"I agree." Taggart nodded. "Preach love, not hate. Gets them every time."

Zhuravylov snagged another drink from the waiter. "We are not as fashionable as you, my friend. I still like the old-fashioned ways best. But, for you I will compromise - we will share Knight's son."

 _Over my dead body._ "Seductions are best carried out alone, Mr. Zhuravylov," Luis said. "Humor me. Give him to me this time. Let me teach him a thing or two about pleasing men. Then he will be ready for you."

Zhuravylov thought about that for a moment then asked the other two men, "Well, shall we let d'Aragon have his pleasure all by himself?"

Haslinger shrugged. "No skin of my nose. I'm not partial to my own sex." _I just fuck Taggart for the money._

"We will order some Filipinas for you, then. What say you, Billy-boy?"

Taggart's lips tightened at the diminutive. "I suppose it will be as much fun watching - no, relax young man. We aren't going to be meddling in your seduction. There's a state-of-the-art surveillance system in the guest rooms so we'll be able to watch and listen as if we were in the same room as you."

"Well, Luis," Zhuravylov smiled widely at him. "We are all stepping aside so you can have first bite so I'm expecting you to make it worth our sacrifice. You may do the honors and loosen Mr. Masterson-Knight up for us." He roared with laughter at his joke. "Then we call his Daddy and ask how much his son's ass is worth." He roared with laughter again. No one paid them any attention, everyone concentrating on their own conversations, networking and making deals.

"We are leaving tomorrow morning," Zhuravylov told Luis. "If you can meet us in the lobby of the Castellano Towers in Makati at ten, you can fly up with us."

"I will be there," Luis said. "If you will excuse me now, I have a dinner engagement and must take my leave. I will see you all tomorrow morning. Have a good evening."

"Billy," Haslinger tapped Taggart on the arm, after Luis left. "I think the awards ceremony is about to begin. You'd better move to the front."

They split up, Haslinger and Taggart heading for the dais and Zhuravylov going off to join another group of foreign investors.

"I told him we're still on schedule for a Monday night commencement," Taggart said to Haslinger as they made their way through the guests. "Do we have everything in position?"

"We're ready." Haslinger replied. "Philip and Shahid are flying in, too. Why the hell would they want to be here when hell's going to break loose? The entire capital is going to be wiped out and I'm getting out of here before it hits."

"You aren't staying for the wedding?" Taggart asked. "It's in the Visayas. Nowhere near the capital. Not even on the same island. But I was told Shahid and Philip will be remaining in the villa with Zhuravylov and that's what I'm curious about. Why not watch from their own homes on the news? It'll be 24-hour coverage. It's not every day an entire nation's capital is destroyed.

Haslinger looked at Taggart as if the answer was obvious. Which it was. "To have ringside seats, of course. It's Zhuravylov's idea of a party-with-a-difference. His villa is far away enough from the action but close enough to observe it, direct everything from the villa then move in for the finale - when we install the White Phoenix in power. We have our plane and helicopter ready for any emergencies so I suggest you relax and let Ivan play a little. Keeps him distracted." _And you._


	34. PART TWO – Chapter  33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn is now in Zhuravylov's villa in Aurora, together with Luis, Taggart and Haslinger. The other two White Phoenix leaders will be flying soon. In a few hours, Op Sirin will be over. Quinn will be back with Jax in San Diego and they'll have that talk.
> 
> Won't they?

_Thursday Night_

_M31's room, Makati Shangri-La Hote_ _l_

"Relax, _Luis_." Hekyll muttered as he tested their surveillance unit. "Nick and I will be in and out by midnight." He pecked out a few more keystrokes, adjusted his earpiece and waved Jax over him. "Nick, lay on the bed and smile. You're on Candid Camera."

Nick hopped on the bed, pulling Adam down with him only to have Staz swatting his bottom and hauling Adam off him.

"Wrong guy, moron." Staz told the grinning Adam.

"Hey. I wouldn't say that." Adam retorted. "It's been awhile since I had a piece of that delectable ass."

"What do you think?" Hekyll asked Jax as they sat in front of the computer screen. Jax switched the sound to speaker and turned up the volume. On-screen they watched the three men's antics testing for photosensitivity as Hayden turned down the lights then off altogether.

"Fucking fantastic." Jax announced as they watched Nick take Staz's cock into his mouth, moaning as Adam started licking his. "Good work, Hekyll." Jax slapped Hayden on the back and pushed back his chair.

"Time to haul ass, Nick." He separated the three men who let go of each other without protest. They were holed up in Luis' suite at the Makati Shangri-La testing the comms and surveillance system for Zhuravylov's villa. Though the villa had already been bugged weeks back once they suspected the Philippines was the next target, Zhuravylov's decision to bring Quinn along to stay was a last-minute thing. Knowing what was planned, they now needed to install one of M31's sophisticated surveillance systems and do it tonight. While Staz, Nick and Hayden took care of that, Adam would head back to the M31 HQ where Quinn was waiting and fix him up with the markers so the M31 men could pick him out from the White Phoenix guys.

"Just dropped them off." Adam told Jax. "I'm heading back to Dasmarinas now to get Quinn ready."

"I want him to light up like a fucking Christmas tree, Adam."

"He will."

Jax disconnected and set up a simultaneous vid briefing with the three team leaders on Operation Firebird - Rohan on Team 8-Blue, Brett on Team Six-Red and Luigi on Team Nine-Yellow. "We're still on schedule for tomorrow night, guys." Jax told them. "Zhuravylov said he's expecting the other leaders to arrive tomorrow evening so if there's a delay in their arrival, Sirin will be postponed. I'll be in touch."

"We're ready as of now but "Jax," Rohan interrupted. "This just came in - forty-five per cent of V-1 is at Zhuravylov's house. The remaining shipment is divided up into six trucks. One northwards on the Gordon-Diffun-Maddela-Aurora Road, two heading East on the Nueva-Ecija-Aurora and three on the Pan-Philippine Highway heading south."

"The dams," Jax said. "They're hitting the dams."

Rohan agreed. "The stuff in the trucks are mostly our CX-300R explosives apart from weaponry."

"What about the house?"

There was a brief pause as Rohan checked his monitor screen. "Mainly weapons. A lot of them. Not just ours, according to the report. Looks like White Phoenix is arming its own army. The weapons aren't just located on Zhuravylov's compound but the surrounding area."

"Storehouses for dissemination." Jax surmised. They knew that the White Phoenix's private army comprised, apart from foreign mercenaries, the local rebel factions and Al-Qaeda-linked ones like the Abu Sayaff.

"Brett just got the report in General Ortiz." Rohan continued. "There's a lot of activity in the area but covert. His men intercepted a truck but the occupants claimed to be laborers on the way to a construction project. He detained them but said he had to let them go to avoid arousing suspicion. The other lookout posts are reporting the similar movement. All heading north of the capital. I rec we start channeling our troops at these three locations and our teams can start securing each facility."

"Do that." Jax affirmed. "Get our guys in there by tonight. I'll talk to General Ortiz and get back to you. One last thing, Ro."

"Yeah."

"Make sure Quinn gets home alive and kicking."

"Roger, sir. Over."

"And out."

Jax called the house after that. "You alright?" he asked when Quinn answered.

"Yeah." Quinn replied. "I'm invited up to Zhuravylov's beach house for the weekend."

"We guessed you'd be. We know Zhuravylov's spending the weekend there."

"I'm leaving tomorrow morning with him. What's the plan after that?"

"Hayden's rigging up the beach house as we speak so we'll have sight and sound. We're having all the bedrooms bugged so we'll be able to see and hear you. Even in the bathroom. We know these guys' habits and proclivities so I'm telling you to be prepared for anything. Are you up to it?"

Quinn waited a breath before answering. "We already went through this before I flew out. Yes, I'm up  to it, Jax."

"You don't need to go through with this. Let our guys handle it. When it's over, you'll get the answers."

"From what I've learnt since I joined KnightShade, this is over when those guys are dead which means I won't get any answers. You might be not think knowing why they were after me is important in the scheme of things but it is to me, Jax. It _is_ personal, yeah. And I don't give a fuck. To be honest, _sir_ \- I don't know why you aren't here with us but whatever, give me this chance to face them and find out what the hell they want from me. Cos when I know that, I bet I'd know what happened to Dante."

Jax waited so long to answer, Quinn blew out an exasperated breath. "Even if I never get the answers I want, at least I tried. After this, I'm going to be playing Tarzan up in tree houses, remember?"

Quinn could imagine Jax massaging the space between his eyebrows, as he had a habit of doing.

"Okay." Jax conceded with a sigh. "You go ahead but you do _exactly_ as we tell you. I don't want maverick shit from you like Tangier. I'll brief you once Hayden checks in."

"Thanks."

"Keep safe, Quinn." Jax paused a little then added, "we've got more to say to each other when you get home."

"We do."

"Goodnight, I gotta go. Hayden's coming in." With that he disconnected Quinn. "Go ahead, Hekyll."

"The unit Chad installed is working fine. That covers the lounge, dining and the patio overlooking the garden and beach. There are seven bedrooms upstairs. Two small ones downstairs. We've got them all wired up for sound and sight.

"Mine?" Jax asked. He would be wearing a comms unit to communicate with M31, sensitive enough to pick up even the smallest whisper from him.

"Look for the room with a black dot on the top right corner of the door frame." Hekyll told him. "Room's at the end of the hallway. We're should be landing in twenty minutes. Details later."

"Roger. Over and out." Though they would be going over the house's blueprint when the men returned, it was SOP for them to relay locations as soon as they could in the event that they were captured or killed. Knowing which room was his meant even if the helo crashed, killing its occupants, Luis would still make sure he stayed in that room and Operation Sirin would continue as planned.

The men returned to the house sometime after midnight, after they'd debriefed Jax at his room in the Shangri-La hotel.They had taken the helo to Baler, the capital of the Aurora province, 143 km away. The helo had dropped them off some distance away so that they could to the infiltration by foot before finding their way back to the helo.

Adam knocked on Quinn's door, sticking his head in when he heard Quinn tell him it was open.

"Come on in." Quinn was sitting up on his bed, a paperback next to him. "Everything ready?" Whatever ‘everything' was.

"Yes, whatever we've wanted to do tonight, anyway."

"Which is?"

"Wire up Zhuravylov's house. We'll be able to see you and hear you. Make sure you wear those clothes we gave you."

"I will." Quinn assured him. "Got them all packed. These dots you tattooed on me - you sure they'll work?"

"We'll test them again before you leave. No M31 man goes out without running through Hekyll's checklist. These markers have been used hundreds of times for our guys and they've never malfunctioned. Even if they do, the chances of all of them failing is near zero. That's why we embed them each individually.

The door opened and Nick and Staz walked in.

"We heard you guys talking so we knew you weren't asleep." Nick said by way of explanation. He sat on the bed next to Quinn. "How are ya, baby?" His palm rubbed Quinn's bare chest, gliding over his nipples.

"I'm ready if you give me the details of what's going down."

"That's what we're in your room for," Nick said. "What didja think?" He winked. "Now listen to Staz and listen very carefully. We've only got one chance to get this right."

"You'll be flying to Zhuravylov's house in the morning." Staz began. "You should get in by lunchtime. This is the cell phone you'll be using while you're there." He passed it to Quinn. "It's just a regular throwaway. We know the White Phoenix will be listening in on your conversations. We know they've bugged their own rooms so you gotta understand these instructions so you can follow them. Call No. 2 on your speed-dial. One of us will pick up. Address whoever does, as Ning. If any of us identify ourselves with that name, it means you play along with whatever you're being told; that we're setting up something.

"Got it? You can't take your KnightFone. Zhuravylov's security is ultra-tight and that cell-phone -" he gestured to the throwaway - "will likely be dismantled and the bug put in before you get it back. Don't call us unless it's absolutely critical. Don't worry. We'll know when you arrive at the house."

"I'm sure you wizards will." Quinn murmured. "Okay. I'm to play along and address you all as ‘Ning'." He got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. "Just a sec. Pee." Where had he received similar instructions? Quinn asked himself as he shook his cock and stuffed it back in his pants. They sounded similar but he hadn't worked with a team in years yet he had the distinctive but faint trickle of memory of someone else giving him instructions. He washed his hands. Could he be getting his memory back? A little, anyway. This latest recall was better. Stronger than all the ones before. It was something he could grasp unlike the emotional flashbacks earlier. It was just the voice speaking that was unidentifiable.

When he came out, Staz continued his briefing."The attack is scheduled for anytime after midnight but our people are already in place as we speak. Nick will get you out during the firefight. I'll be in the helo waiting. If you see the helo before Nick gets to you, make a run for it if you can. Whether day or night, our guys can identify you. Those dots - the Artistree tattoo - will fade in a week but until then, it glows in the dark and we won't shoot you by mistake. The Artistree logo on your clothes have the same special compound mixed in the dye so it'll show up, too."

"What if it's not dark enough to glow?" Quinn asked.

"It's a special compound." Hayden explained. "It doesn't glow, to be precise. It lights up when viewed through our KnightShade NVGs. Our men will be looking out for you. The local troops will only be taking care of the local militiamen and Zhuravylov's staff. M31's job will be to get White Phoenix into custody and ensure you're on Staz's helo and the KnightBird. You will be flown immediately to San Diego. The rest of us will follow after we've wrapped things up here." Staz looked around the room. "I'm done. If there's nothing else, we should hit the sack."

"Goodnight, Quinn." Adam moved towards the door. "You and I will be leaving the house at nine hundred hours. That should get you to Castellano Towers by ten."

"Goodnight, Quinn." Nick went to him and kissed him softly, wrapping his arms around his neck. "Want us to stay awhile?"

"Not tonight, babe. You understand, don't you?" He had sent Staz and him back last night, too, after explaining that he didn't want sex. They'd understood and after chatting a bit, had gone back to their own room.

"Yeah." Nick nodded as Quinn drew his arms off his neck gently. "I do." He raised himself up again to plant a kiss on Quinn's nose. "If I were in your shoes, I'd want Staz to be the last one who fucked me so yeah, I understand perfectly." He moved away to join Staz at the door.

"Don't forget - play along with whatever comes up." Staz gave Quinn a curt nod. "This ass of his will be ready and waiting when you get home." He gave Nick a smack on his ass, causing the younger man to yelp."

 

_Friday 12.05pm_

_Baler, Aurora province._

Zhuravylov's beach house was, as Quinn expected, a luxury tropical hideaway. Facing the Philippine Sea on the eastern front of Luzon island, the hacienda covered several acres in the municipality of Baler in the Aurora province. When Quinn had arrived at Castellano Towers to meet the rest, the Argentinean was already there. Thankfully, so were Haslinger and Taggart. Zhuravylov had arrived a few minutes later and the party left for Baler. Luis, like in Tangier, merely nodded a greeting and did not speak to him throughout the entire journey. Quinn followed Jax's instructions, as in Tangier, and did not attempt to converse with the Argentinean.

As the chopper flew over the mountainous region, Luis kept a look-out for possible hide-outs and locations where the trucks could be travelling. Seated in front of him, Quinn totally unaware that the man who possessed his heart was right there in the helo with him, not in San Diego as he was led to believe.

The jungle was much too thick for anything to be detected, though they spotted winding jungle trails that emerged only to disappear again into the verdant greenery. Half an hour later, the simmering sea appeared on the horizon and Zhuravylov told them his hacienda would be coming into view soon.

Luis noted the winding road leading to the property which comprised several small houses, more shacks than proper homes, with patches of farmland, probably vegetable and fruit orchards. More buildings loomed into view as the chopper made a sharp curve inward and he saw what he knew would be the security's quarters, only there were enough of them to house at least five hundred men.

The helo approached the front of the hacienda's main building and started the descent, bringing with it another flash of déjà vu to Quinn. Another flash of himself in a helo, descending on a villa just like they were doing now. He resisted the urge to turn his head and look at the man sitting behind him. He sensed Luis was connected to the flashback but how? His attention was snagged back to the present as the helo landed and the door was opened by a uniformed guard outside.

"Welcome, gentlemen." Zhuravylov beamed as he stood in front of his oceanside villa. Behind him, the Sierra Madre range rose up, a smoky blue-green. In the front, the blue waters of Baler Bay where, according to Zhuravylov, the movie Apocalypse Now had been filmed. "Jo-Jo will take your bags." He beamed at Luis and Quinn. "If you will follow him and Myletta, they will show you to your rooms. You can freshen up and we will meet in the patio again in half an hour for drinks and lunch."

* * * * *

Luis asked the houseboy if he could select his own room and once that was done, locating the one he wanted wasn't difficult. The small black dot was there, as he was told, stuck right on the top left corner of the door frame. He'd leave it there because the corridor was monitored 24/7. If he reached up to remove the marker, he could get spotted. Last night, Nick had immobilized the screen to allow them three minutes to get out of the room before the camera switched back to its real-time coverage.

"Where is Mr. Masterson's room?" Luis asked Jo-Jo.

"Opposite you, sehrr." Jo-jo replied in that polite tone, his accent as thick as the humidity in the air. "Only these two bedrooms are available. The rest are occupied by Mr. Zhuravylov, Mr. Haslinger and Reverend Taggart, sehrr. Mr. Zhuravylov's suite is through there." He pointed to the set of double-doors.

* * * * *

"Sehrr." Myletta stood in the bedroom, her hands folded in front of her waist. "My sehrr says you will come down and join him for lunch in half an hour. I have put a jug of iced water here. Everything you need for your shower is in the bathroom. Do you need me to help you?"

"In the shower? Uh, no thanks. I'm fine."

"If you need anything, just press number ‘8' on your phone and let me know what you would like."

"Selamat-po, Myletta." Quinn gently herded her to the door. "I will be downstairs soon." He stole a look at Luis' door just as it opened and Jo-Jo exited. About twenty-five minutes later, Quinn was about to go knock on Luis' door when a couple of loud raps sounded on his. Luis stood there looking fresh and unlawfully sexy, his mahogany locks still damp from the shower. Woodsy spice trailed to Quinn's nose and he breathed in the fragrance.

And choked, coughing till he doubled over.

"Hey." Luis thumped Quinn's back. "Something wrong?"

After a few more choking coughs, Quinn straightened up. "Sorry, just choked on my saliva."

"I was hoping you choked because you think the sight of me is breathtaking."

Quinn almost choked again on hearing that. _Luis? Coming on to him? After ignoring him through two continents?_

Luis linked his arm through Quinn's and led him along. "You look very good. How about me?"

"You're good. Nothing lacking there. Not your ego, anyway."

Luis laughed heartily. "What is this Artistree you are wearing?" He looked at the tree logo on Quinn's shirt.

"Just the name of the company I work for."

"Ah, yes. You are a landscaper."

"Yes, and you?"

"This and that. An entrepreneur, if you like."

They went down the curved stairway into the spacious sala where the voices of their host and Taggart could be heard. Haslinger appeared behind them and the three men made their way through the luxuriously-appointed living room out onto the patio, or lanai as it was called in the Philippines.

"Jo-Jo!" Zhuravylov called out.

The houseboy appeared seemingly out of nowhere, a wooden tray with mother-of-pearl inlay held against his chest. "Yes sehrr."

"What you like to drink?" Zhuravylov asked the three men. "Taggart and I are having vodka and lime.'

"The limes are from the garden," Taggart added. "The local variety known as calamansi."

"I'll have a San Mig," Haslinger said. "Provided it's very, very cold."

"That's the only way it's served in the Philippines, John." Taggart told him.

"Vodka and lime is good for me." Luis told Jo-Jo, taking a seat.

" _Pwedeng makahingi ng isang basong lime at soda_." Quinn smiled at Jo-Jo. "I'm not much of a drinker," he told Zhuravylov. "Some wine with my food is about all I can handle."

"What was that you asked for?" Luis asked, pretending not to speak the language.

"A glass of lime and soda.'

"To each his own." Zhuravylov conceded. "Tell me, Quinn. You obviously are not a stranger to the Philippines."

"I spent a few years here with our Filipino associate firm."

"And what are your impressions?" Zhuravylov asked.

"I'm sure the reverend will agree with me about the vast gap between the haves and the have-nots."

"I most certainly do," Taggart agreed. "But I've also learnt that the poor deserve what they get simply because they don't know how to value anything better."

"A rather cynical perspective for someone so involved in the betterment of the Philippine poor." Quinn couldn't help remarking. "Aren't these the same people you want to build the tree house resort for?"

"Yes, of course, but it won't be left to them to run it." Taggart replied. ‘They'd only run it to the ground. What this country needs is a strong hand. Even Marcos wasn't firm enough."

"Give the peasants an inch and they'll grab a mile, is that it?" Quinn asked. From his peripheral vision, he caught Luis watching him with an amused expression as if he found the conversation entertaining. It brought Quinn back to what he was here for. "Perhaps you are right, Reverend. After all, you do have much more experience than I do with the needy masses. Much of my work has been for the wealthy."

"Whose tombs are like palaces!" Zhuravylov snorted. "They're dead. Why waste all that money on a corpse?" he looked at Quinn. "Have you been to the Manila Cemetery?"

"Yes, I have but here, perhaps the Reverend will find it an irony that pleases him?" Quinn looked at Taggart. "The luxurious mausoleums now house squatters and their tombs are now poker tables." He turned to Haslinger. "The wedding you're attending this weekend, it must be a very lavish affair."

"Over-the-top," Haslinger said. "All the guests have already been flown to Ceferino's private island resort in the Visayas. I will fly down tomorrow evening. The wedding itself is on Sunday morning but the celebrating has already begun."

And so it went on, the conversation, scintillating at times, scornful at others, until about two in the afternoon when Zhuravylov announced he was going to take a short siesta and would see them again at six for cocktails in the sala.

"By all means have a massage. I will be having one, too." He clapped loudly and Myletta appeared. "Bring the girls to our guests' rooms. Or -" he turned to look at Quinn. "Would you prefer a male masseur? Alfonso is very good."

"Thank you but I will just take a swim instead," Quinn said. "I'm not used to taking daytime naps."

"As you wish." Zhuravylov gave him a nod. "What about you, Luis?"

"A massage would be wonderful. I leave the choice of masseuse to you." He smiled at Myletta.

 


	35. PART TWO – Chapter  34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even as Jax/Luis gets ready for the showdown, he has second thoughts about Quinn's involvement. If all goes according to plan, Jax will be able to retire the Firebird after tonight.
> 
> Trouble is, sometimes even when there's no need for Plan B, other complications arise. 
> 
> This chapter changes the course of Jax and Quinn's relationship. Will Quinn, knowing what it's like to be in the world of covert ops, cut Jax some slack or will he run?

Luis watched Quinn from his balcony. The man had found himself a surfboard and looked like he was having fun. He was certainly good on the board and Luis thought he'd love to take Quinn to Kauai. He'd been thinking of buying a vacation home in Hawaii and was planning to take a trip down when his parents moved across.

He stood there on the balcony, the ocean breeze blowing his shoulder-length hair. The white cheesecloth of his drawstring trousers were plastered against his thigh and calf muscles by the strong breeze, outlining his semi-hard cock and balls. Myletta had left ten minutes ago with a fat tip and he'd been about to go and scout the compound when he spotted Quinn out in the water. He wondered, yet again, whether he ought to have stopped him from meeting Haslinger for lunch, whether he ought to have kept him out of Firebird completely. Tonight was critical. He'd wired himself up with the unit Nick had hidden in the wardrobe - a cigarette lighter which was both a camera and a microphone as well.

He'd go down and take a walk, perhaps get to chat a little with Quinn. According to Nick, the rest of the trucks were still moving, still heading for the dams. They estimated they'd reach all three destinations by tomorrow morning.

He explored the grounds as best he could without raising suspicions, stopping now and then to take a swig from his icy-cold bottle of San Miguel beer and smoking his menthol cigarettes. He flirted with the servants, both male and female and found out the two guests, Philip Xu and Shahid Khan were scheduled to arrive only close to midnight due to a delay in their flight. No mention of the fifth man at all. Was he wrong and there were only four leaders? Taggart didn't come across like a White Phoenix leader either. He could be just another goon heading up the money-laundering division. Whatever, they were all being rounded up on this op and they could sort out the details later during interrogation.

Luis strolled through the grounds leisurely, smoking his menthols. The outlying houses were heavily guarded and he ventured into what he guessed was a fruit orchard. Striking up a conversation with the laborers in a mixture of English and Tagalog, he found out that all except the guards and some of the household staff did not live on the premises. Every evening after work, they took the bus provided by their employer back to their villages scattered ten, twenty miles away.

"The new guards, the soldiers," Mateo, one of the farmers, told Luis. "they only come two days ago. We don't know from where. They live in that house there. And that one." He pointed to some ramshackle buildings further down the lane.

"Do you know how long they will stay?" Luis asked him.

Mateo shook his head. "No, they don't talk much to us." With that, he returned to carting away the baskets of mangoes.

"You got that?" Luis asked Staz.

"Loud and clear, boss."

"How's Quinn doing?" Adam asked, joining the comms conversation.

"Better than I thought." Luis turned in the direction of the beach where he'd spotted Quinn. "He's riding a pretty good wave at the moment. I didn't think a landlubber like him would be such a good surfer."

"I'm sure we'll all discover more hidden talents as we go along." Nick chipped in.

"Everyone else is taking their afternoon siesta though I expect they'll be waking soon," Luis said.

"Everything's still as scheduled from our end." Staz told him.

"No change here." Luis paused. "I'm going to try to get Quinn for myself. It shouldn't be too difficult. Zhuravylov's straight and Taggart will just have to wait and let me have first dibs."

"What about Quinn?" Staz asked. "He's going to resist."

"No guarantee he'll play ball." Adam added. "Staz told him to play along but we didn't tell him anything about him being the flavor of the night."

"You'll just have to make sure it gets into his head, you got me?" Jax squinted in the distance at the lone figure out in the waves. "If he balks, there's no telling what Zhuravylov might do. I need him to fall in with whatever I want. It's the only way I can guarantee his safety.

* * * * *

Quinn had just had a shower, washing the sea off him when his cell phone rang. Digging it out of his duffle bag, he took the call. "Quinn."

"Hey, amigo. Ning here." Jax's voice was bright and cheery, with a fake Filipino accent.

"Hey, how are you?" God, he missed him, Quinn thought.

"Good. Good. We heard you were in town. You free to come for a party tonight?"

"Sorry, can't. I'm here on business and I'm in the province."

"Too bad. Oh hey, it's Tito's birthday and we're playing a joke on him. We want you to play along."

"With what?" Quinn laughed. "What are you getting me into this time?"

‘Ning' chuckled. "You know how Tito thinks you're 100% straight? We're telling him you just came out of the closet. We want you to play along. Naiintindihan mo ba ako?"

"You're nuts. Okay, okay. I'd play along but I'm not in Manila so I can't help you."

"Tito will call you once we tell him. You play along if he does. Even if it means having to give me a BJ."

"No way! You're kidding, aren't you?"

"No, lang. I'm dead serious. But just saying only. You're not here so you won't have to do it but if you did, please play along. It's just for this occasion, okay?"

"Whatever. Okay, okay. But you owe me, buddy."

‘Ning' laughed and rang off.

Quinn ended the call and sat on his bed. Something was brewing - other than the planned attack - but he didn't know what exactly, just that it was important enough for Jax to call and warn him. He looked at his watch. It was past six and Zhuravylov was likely downstairs already. He found all four men relaxing in the sala with the local brew, chilled to icy coldness and accepted a bottle.

"Reverend." he addressed Taggart. "Shall we discuss some of your ideas for the resort?"

"A little," Taggart replied. "Not too much, though. Today we relax. And call me Bill while we're here in the villa. I will take you around tomorrow and view some of the properties that I think are possible locations."

With that, Quinn gave Taggart an overview of the projects he'd worked on, showing videos and shots from his laptop. As he'd been warned, both his cell phone and laptop had been confiscated before he boarded the helicopter and returned to him after they arrived at the hacienda. No doubt, with their bugs attached.

He could tell Taggart was distracted and making polite noises as he showed him Artistree's portfolio. Luis watched him from time to time and sensed the other man's interest in him. And knew it wasn't because of tree houses.

Jo-Jo came up to announce dinner was ready and Zhuravylov led the way to the dining room. A 12-seater lauan wood table was laid out with the typical Filipino fare - adobong manok (chicken stewed with soya sauce, garlic and vinegar, crispy pata (a delicious artery-clogging dish of crispy-fried pork hock, ginataang alimasag (mud crabs in coconut milk), grilled milkfish and various stir-fried vegetables.

Quinn spooned small portions onto his plate frequently to give the impression of eating heartily. He noted that Luis was doing the same. Conversation was what he'd expect in any other home - rather normal, in fact.

What transpired after dinner was anything but.

* * * * *

They adjourned to the games room and Zhuravylov poured out snifters of cognac for everyone. Quinn accepted his even though he had no intention of drinking it. Luis walked over to the pool table, gathered the balls and lined them up. He was about to shoot when the door opened and six young women entered.

Luis flicked them a glance and returned to his gaze to the ball.

"Ah. Dessert." Zhuravylov chuckled, chomping and puffing on his cigar. He wasn't a tall man nor a big one but he was fit and obviously took care of his body, despite the rich food he ingested. He curved his arm around the slim waist of one of the girls and pulled her to him. She went happily.

"Take your pick, Quinn." Zhuravylov wagged his cigar at him. "As our guest, you can have first choice. Any one of these. Girls, introduce yourselves." He pushed the girl he was holding away from him and with a curt nod, said. "Go. Make my guests happy."

Quinn watched Luis change his mind about the pool game, returning his cue to the rack and sauntering over to sit down beside him. John and Taggart were engrossed in a quiet conversation but watching them nonetheless. Quinn glanced at the clock on the wall. Twenty-two hundred hours. Dinner had been a long drawn-out affair and they hadn't started eating until eight.

"Go on." Zhuravylov urged Quinn. "Before Luis takes them all!" He laughed at his supposed joke and Quinn smiled politely. Play along, he reminded himself and was decided whether to go with one of the girls when Luis spoke.

"I think I've already been given my choice, as a matter of fact. Don't you recall, Ivan? Last night at the cocktail."

Zhuravylov's puzzled look cleared. Quinn looked at him curiously. "Ah yes, of course." Zhuravylov nodded. "I won't pretend to agree or understand your tastes but -" he shrugged, waving off Luis' sexual preference. "The Firebird is the Firebird, yes? Go ahead. It will be interesting to see if you can collect."

"I did say seduction is my weapon of choice these days so yes, we will see." Luis leaned into Quinn causing him to tense up. "And you happen to be the saveur du jour, Quinn." He kissed Quinn's ear and gave the earlobe a nibble to.

Quinn tensed and glanced over at Taggart who was still talking quietly with Haslinger. "The Reverend may not approve."

Zhuravylov shook his head. "He does not partake, no. It is against his sensibilities and he has his reputation to protect, after all. But he will not stop you so please go ahead and enjoy yourselves." He smiled and leaned forward. "Any chance that there will be some leftovers?" He guffawed and pulled the girl to him, giving her nipple a tweak.

"Not tonight I'm afraid." Luis replied. "I'm rather ravenous tonight, despite the wonderful meal. Besides, you do not swing that way, remember?"

"Ahh, but I do not believe in closing off my options. I should try at least once or twice, don't you agree?" There was a knock on the door and Jo-Jo appeared. 

"Phone call for you, sehrr." He passed the phone to Zhuravylov. Luis heard Philip and Shahid's names then Zhuravylov was telling Haslinger and Taggart that their associates would be arriving tonight after all. Woohoo.

"Hey, wait a minute." Quinn pushed Luis away and stood. " I don't like the direction this is taking."

"Settle down." Luis leaned back on the sofa and picked up the box of cigars on the side table next to him, keeping his eyes away from Zhuravylov. Give the appearance of being totally absorbed with Quinn. "Let's have a cigar." When Quinn didn't respond, he added softly, "Come, Mr. Masterson-Knight. Humor me. Just play along at least, for my ego's sake."

Play along. Those were his orders. Well, fuck Jax. They want him to play along? That's what they were gonna get. Quinn smiled and sat back down. "You are right. I am being ungracious." To Zhuravylov, he apologized. "I'm sorry. I'm not used to the more sophisticated ways. Just a country boy myself, you know."

"Not a problem," Zhuravylov waved his cigar at him. "Luis here will teach you a thing or two tonight. And there is no need to be shy. I saw how you were looking at him last night and earlier today. There is attraction, yes? You two enjoy yourselves. Tomorrow we do business, yes Luis?"

"Why don't we go somewhere more private?" Luis suggested, taking Quinn's arm. His look said it was more of a command than a suggestion.

Time to play ball, Quinn told himself. "Where are we going?" he asked Luis.

"My room." Luis took Quinn's arm and led him to the door as if he were a nervous horse that was likely to bolt.

Taggart looked up, then. "Going to bed already?"

"Yes." Luis replied. "It has been a long day. You do not mind, do you?" He flicked a meaningful glance at the Filipinas who were already surrounding Zhuravylov's armchair.

"See you in the morning, then." Haslinger nodded at them.

* * * * *

Luis strode through the hallway and up the stairs, not looking back to see if Quinn was following. He knew the other man was. Knew it was a matter of choosing the lesser evil. In this case, he wasn't sure if Quinn had made the right choice.

Luis opened the door to his room and led Quinn in.

"Are you an associate of Zhuravylov?" Quinn asked.

"I am an independent." Luis replied. "My dealings with Ivan have made me a very wealthy man and I am expecting to be even wealthier after this weekend. And Ivan and his associates will, again, be satisfied clients. His associates are arriving tonight. It's going to be an interesting day tomorrow." Staz responded immediately. "Copy that. Other two targets arriving tonight. We'll get into position and stand by for commencement once targets Are sighted. No mention of the fifth guy?'"

"I was expecting a larger party or three more guests but just two is fine. Cozier, don't you think?"

"Copy that. No fifth man." Staz responded.

"No difference to me, I'm afraid," Quinn said, in response to Luis' question. "I'm here to work, not to party."

Luis tsked. "But you know what they say about all work and no play..." he pushed Quinn to the wall and started kissing him. After the initial resistance, Quinn relaxed under the onslaught of the other man's lips. Play along. His tongue slid across the scar on Luis' top lip then tangled with his, Luis' husky chuckle rumbling against Quinn's mouth.

According to Hekyll's report, Zhuravylov had cameras facing the bed as well as from both sides, including one on the ceiling. Hekyll had installed only one. That was all they needed. Naturally, M31's sound and sight quality left the White Phoenix's for dead. Zhuravylov's were good quality but nothing special and Hayden had managed to de-activate them in a matter of minutes, install theirs then re-activated Zhuravylov's. But not before scrambling some of the circuits so the sound quality was diminished.

"Uh, look." Quinn moved away from Luis' reach, towards the door. "You feel like a drink first?" He knew both the White Phoenix and M31 were watching him. He wasn't sure which group made him more uncomfortable. It was different having sex at home with the M31 guys than here with them merely watching. It felt wrong, somehow.

Luis' arm shot out, his fingers gripping Quinn's arm like the jaws of a black mamba. "Stay."

Just one word but Quinn halted in his flight. Something about that voice. That tone. He turned. "Who are you?" He asked slowly.

"Someone who is going to enjoy you tonight."

"We're in position." Staz's voice came loud and clear in Luis' ear. "Keep him with you as much as you can. Try not to let him out of your sight. Would make it helluva lot easier."

"So...let's party." Luis said, more for the team than Quinn. He pressed himself to Quinn, palming the hard, muscled chest.

Quinn remained stiff and immobile. He could get through this. He assured Jax and he would do it.

"White Phoenix comms just activated." Staz warned. "You're on camera for our friends."

Luis slid his arms around Quinn and kissed him, teasing his lips apart. Come on, Quinn. Just do it. Don't think. "I wanted you the minute I saw you in that ballroom."

"I'd like to say I felt the same but -"

"Shh..." Luis pulled him down on the bed. "No need for words." He laid on top of Quinn, pulling up his tee-shirt. Quinn was about to protest them remembered he had the markers on his chest as well. He let Luis pull the shirt over his head. Luis stripped off his own clothes and tackled Quinn's zipper. When he'd got both of them naked, he lay back down next to Quinn, spooning him. Quinn had deliberately turned to his side to prevent Luis from topping him.

* * * * *

Play along. Just play along, Quinn told himself. He realized now that Jax had to know Luis would be fucking him. And didn't think it necessary to tell him. M31 had rigged up the surveillance unit last night so Quinn knew they were watching him right now. Jax was watching him and Luis right this moment. It didn't sit well with him that it didn't matter to Jax that Quinn would be fucked by a stranger and one connected to the White Phoenix. I guess, I really am just a simple country boy after all. Quinn couldn't see himself letting Jax have sex with other guys except the M31 boys. Everyone else outside of their group would constitute cheating and it would hurt. It would cut him up. Obviously, it didn't matter to Jax.

Well, fuck him, then. Quinn took a deep breath, the anger rolling through him. It was all about the mission, wasn't it? Nothing else mattered but Operation Sirin. How stupid to think he was something more, that Jax would feel something; that he'd not want Quinn fucking with another man but he was nothing more than another tool in Jax's Super Toolkit, after all.

Luis nuzzled his ear and was surprised when Quinn turned to him and kissed him. A full-on kiss, too. Nothing tentative about it. Quinn devoured him, sucking on his lips, fingers clawing his back. His back. He'd activated the Firebird for the White Phoenix's sake, knowing they'd be observing him but if he could, he'd rather Quinn didn't know about it. Might freak him out and he wanted him to remain in the room. The teams were moving into position. Once Philip and Shahid arrived, the countdown would begin. He just needed to hold his position with Quinn and let his men do their job. He just wished Quinn wouldn't be so fucking enthusiastic about kissing and fucking Luis, though.

Just doing as he was told. That's all Quinn was doing, Luis reminded himself. He was still miffed but shook it off. One last time and no more charades. He moved over Quinn and felt him open up. His legs wrapped around Luis' torso and his arms encircled his neck. Their hard cocks pressed against each other and Luis lifted himself up just enough to slip his hand in between their now-damp bodies to take hold of Quinn's erection.

Quinn's moan was both a relief and a provocation to Luis. He wanted to smash his fist into the pillow, to demand of Quinn what the hell did he mean by kissing - no, about to let himself be fucked fucked! by another man, to tell him he belonged to him! To Jax and no one else.

"Fuck me, then."Quinn said,. his voice flat and devoid of emotion.

Quinn's husky voice made Luis' cock even harder still and he muttered a curse, remembering to do it in Spanish. Argentinean Spanish. "Damn. Will fuck you, then!" He pulled open the drawer of the nightstand and took out the packets of lube and condom. Raising himself up to his knees, he pushed Quinn's legs back, exposing him. He wanted to bury his face in the man's groin and burrow his tongue inside but this was a job. Just a job. Get it over and done with. He ripped open the packet and sheathed himself then ripped the lube packet, squeezing it out on his palm and dribbling some on Quinn's hole. His single whiskey eye met Quinn's emerald ones and held them as he positioned the head of his cock at Quinn's entrance. He pressed in. Heard and saw Quinn gasp, saw the frown that suddenly appeared. "Am I hurting you?"

Quinn seem startled by the question and muttered something. Luis pushed himself all the way in until his balls pressed against Quinn. Letting go of his thighs which he'd been holding, Luis bracketed Quinn's body with his arms, lowering himself down till they were nose to nose, lips to lips.

"You feel fantastic." Luis whispered.

Quinn didn't respond to that but remained silent. He felt Luis' cock withdraw and slide in again, in that ancient rhythm. The mix of emotions made him slightly sick. For a few minutes, his anger had made him give in to Luis and he'd allowed himself the attraction, allowed himself to want this man. But the minute he felt the kiss, so hot and demanding, he'd been assailed with the thought that only one other man had the right to demand this of his body. Still, he fought the rationalizing and felt like a bone in the grip of two dogs.

In the end, anger won. Whatever he had with Jax, with the team, he was still considered an outsider. Good enough to "play along" but not good enough to be told beforehand what he'd be playing with or with whom. Well, you can watch me do my job, Jax Theron. Watch me play along.

"Come on, Luis." He growled. "Is this the best you can do? If so, I should have stayed downstairs and gotten a better fuck out of those girls. I don't always bottom, just so you know."

Luis blinked, momentarily stunned. Then a grin broke out on his face. "Then fuck you, I will." And he rammed home. Furiously, till the bed slammed repeatedly against the wall with each vicious thrust. He stole a look at Quinn's cock. It was so hard, the pre-come leaking out and smearing his flat belly. Luis knew it wouldn't take much longer before he came.

He speeded up then reached for Quinn's cock. "Come with me. You ready?"

"Yeah..." Quinn rasped, his breath coming faster, mouth half-open. He bucked his hips to meet the thrusts and Luis pumped furiously a few times, then twice, before coming inside Quinn with a guttural cry.

Quinn's orgasm rushed through him from the top of his head down to his cock. He trembled under the onslaught of the powerful waves, so strong they made him dizzy. His head was spinning and he felt weird. His skin was flushed till he felt like he was on fire. The flash that hit him like a lightning bolt had him bucking up off the bed just as his orgasm exploded out of his cock. Oh fuck, Oh fuck. Oh fuck. He was still coming. Still pumping.

"No...no...No, Sali!" He cried out.

And it all came back.


	36. PART TWO – Chapter  35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn's taken off because he knows everything now.
> 
> Jax is clueless.
> 
> This chapter ends Part Two of our story.

Quinn shoved Luis off and climbed out of the bed, rushing to the bathroom.

Luis heard of the sound of retching and was about to go after him when Nick's voice came in. _"Chopper touching down._ _We're in position. Stay where you are. Repeat. Keep your position. We want to verify the newcomers first."_ Luis stared at the bathroom, torn between going to Quinn and waiting it out.

Quinn vomited out his dinner. He groaned and felt the anger burning through him. It was Luis. Luis who raped him. In Puerto Banus. It all came rushing back. Too fast, too furious for his brain to absorb. But he remembered. Every fucking detail.

He dragged himself to the washbasin and splashed water into his mouth, rinsing out the sour vomit. Lifting his head which weighed a ton, he peered into the mirror, seeing his reddened eyes. Red from the pressure of vomiting. From the tears of anguish. Now he knew why Luis felt familiar. Knew what was triggering those flashbacks. He was the man in the flashbacks, the one whose face he sensed rather than saw. The voice that he felt he'd heard before. It had been Luis all along! Luis had raped him in Vargas' villa then left him to die.

He needed to tell Jax. He could do that in the bedroom where Jax and M31 were listening in. He'd refresh Luis' mind if the asshole had really forgotten about that incident. Quinn turned from the mirror and Luis was standing there framed by the doorway. His handsome face now haggard, the scar etched deeper in the groove of his cheek and lip.

Looking at him through that one good eye.

And then Quinn knew. He didn't know how but he saw the truth in that single eye. Saw every fucking thing.

With a roar, he crashed through the doorway, knocking Luis - no, _Jax!_ \- out of the way and grabbed his clothes off the floor, pulling on his pants as Luis - _Jax!_ -yelled something at him. Quinn wasn't listening. He slammed Jax against the wall and pulled open the door, slamming it against Jax and rushed out of the room, pulling on his tee-shirt. He checked to make sure his cell phone was in his pocket and walked ran down the hallway. Jax was shouting at him but he didn't give a fuck. He ran down the stairs just as the whup-whup of a chopper filled the night air.

* * * * *

Jax was frantic. Why the hell did Quinn suddenly go berserk? At the worst possible time. The attack would commence any minute. Another message had come in just as Quinn left the room There wasn't time to talk. More of the White Phoenix troops were coming in and they'd just verified the two arrivals were Philip Xu and Shahid Khan. Nick would have to take it from there. M31 needed to attack now or it would be too late. The White Phoenix's private army was big enough to thwart the extraction of its leaders and they would have to abort the mission.

Jax ran down the steps just as the first explosion rocked the house. Screams sounded, shouts followed and another bigger explosion followed, lighting up the night sky. There went the chopper if the crashing sounds were anything to go by.

"What's going on?" Luis shouted as he ran into Haslinger. Taggart and Zhuravylov were with him. So were Philip Xu and Shahid. No one paid Luis any attention. Staff were running everywhere, screaming and taking cover as more explosions rocked the compound. It sounded like the entire Philippine army was out there. A window blew and a grenade was tossed through an already broken one.

"Grenade!" Luis pulled Philip and shouted to the others. "Upstairs!" The explosion ripped a hole in the wall. "Whoever they are will be coming through soon!" He yelled at Zhuravylov who was turning to go back wherever he came from. He needed to keep them in one place as much as he could. "We can try to escape through the first-story windows."

He could do that but he doubted any of them could. Nevertheless, in a situation like this, people always listened to the one who sounded like he knew what the fuck to do. Not because he was right but because everyone else was panicking.

He rushed them all upstairs, Zhuravylov demanding to know where the hell his men were and Haslinger telling him they were likely fighting whoever was making all the racket.

Another explosion rocked the ceiling this time, followed by the vicious spitting of submachine gun fire. The front door burst open just as the last man made it up the top of the stairs. Half a dozen soldiers spilled into the house, their AK-47s sweeping the lounge. Zhuravylov came rushing back to the top of the stairs demanding, "Lito! What's going on?" Despite the mayhem Zhuravylov's voice was calm. Angry but controlled.

"We are under attack, sir!" Lito, the soldier Zhuravylov addressed, rushed up the stairs.

"By who?"

"Unidentified, sir. Williams is injured, sir. His men and ours are fighting off the attackers."

"If we go to his bedroom," Luis nodded at Zhuravylov. "Can you get us out from the window? It faces the sea. Can you get a boat waiting there? I saw many on the beach."

"Yes sir. We will try. It is the only way out but you must hurry. We cannot hold off the attackers much longer. There are many of them and our troops won't make it here in time." Just as he finished, another round of fire joined more explosions and they heard more shouts. More men had entered the house. "Whatever you do, sir, don't go out the front door. They are shooting everything that comes out of there."

"Faster!" Another Filipino soldier yelled. A loud boom sounded, sending tremors through the hallway. Lito hurried them down to Zhuravylov's bedroom at the end.

"We need guns." Luis said to Zhuravylov. "We can't just wait in your room to be slaughtered if your man doesn't get us out." _And where the fuck was Quinn?_ "I saw Quinn go downstairs earlier. Did any of you see him?"

 _"He hasn't checked in, boss._ " Staz's tone told Jax even the normally stoic Cajun was concerned. " _None of our men have spotted him so he's likely still in the house._ "

Just then, the door swung open. Everyone started and Lito almost opened fire but it was his men. A bloody Quinn was with them. "Hey! What the hell's going on?" Quinn asked. "I almost got blown up."

"You got shot?" Luis asked. Blood was dripping down Quinn's cheek from his temple.

"Just a cut on my scalp when I fell." Quinn replied, though he'd have preferred to slug him one. "There are soldiers everywhere." He told Zhuravylov. "The whole place is being bombed. We have to get out of here."

" _You got him. Good. Coming in three minutes._ " Staz. " _Are you ready? Cough once for yes_."

Luis coughed once.

"Do you have a gun in here?" Luis asked Zhuravylov, knowing Nick had planted one in the closet. "Even a pistol. Anything would help." He needed an excuse and would have to "accidentally" find the gun if Zhuravylov didn't give one to him.

"Yes. In my drawer." Zhuravylov rushed to a low chest of drawers next to his bed as more shouting and gunfire was heard downstairs. He grabbed a rifle and a Sig Sauer from the  drawer and passed the Sig to Luis, the rifle to Haslinger.

"The chopper -" A black-clad man that crashed through the window stopping Zhuravylov in mid-sentence. A short burst of gunfire from more men-in-black coming through the door and Lito and two guards lay dead. Two more men came through the window and the White Phoenix men put up their hands, dropping their weapons. Zhuravylov was cursing a blue streak in Russian. The attackers, whoever they were, herded them into the corner of the room and Zhuravylov demanded to know what they wanted. Luis, Quinn noticed had kept the handgun out of sight. Haslinger's rifle and the other weapons had been taken away the minute the soldiers surrendered.

Another explosion and the whine of a rocket-launcher had them diving for cover. Luis took the opportunity to take out the handgun and all they saw next was the first black-clad guy who had crashed through the window, fire two rounds dead center in Luis' chest. The blast threw his body back and he landed on Zhuravylov's bed, staining the white sheets with his blood. His eye-patch had been dislodged, revealing an ugly mangled mass of scar tissue over the eye socket.

"Nooo!" Quinn rushed forward only to have his head clipped by the rifle butt of the guy who shot Luis. Shaking off the pain, he made another attempt to get to Luis even as his head warned him not to. If this mission failed, they would need the Firebird again and if he blew their cover, that would be the end. But love had a way of making even experienced men do stupid things. He had to know if Jax was dead and there was no way to ask the soldier if he knew who Luis was so the only was to touch Luis, to find a pulse, to feel for - he hoped - a kevlar.

And so Quinn made another rush for Luis.

The rifle smacked him harder this time. Hard enough to knock him out. _Damned hard head_ , Nick muttered behind his balaclava.

The explosion this time was too close for everyone's comfort and the attackers cuffed everyone and pushed them out of the room, leaving Quinn and Luis' bodies behind.

"Everybody out!" A voice rose above the din.

There was pandemonium outside and Zhuravylov was still demanding to know what the hell was going on.

 "I said everybody out!" The man who shot Luis yelled. "This place is going to blow in five minutes! Carry that idiot out." He pointed to Quinn with his rifle. Zhuravylov and the rest were herded out and one of the men in black hoisted Quinn over his shoulder.

White Phoenix men were running in every direction outside the house and in the distance, more explosions lit up the night sky. Zhuravylov, Xu and Khan were now squabbling among themselves until Taggart told them to shut up. They turned on him. Haslinger kept out of it and didn't resist when they were led to the waiting helicopter. One by one they climbed aboard until it was Haslinger's turn.  "Who are you?" he asked one of the soldiers.

"We're working alongside the Philippine SOCOM, sir. Under orders from the President of the United States and President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo and under command of Major General Arturo Ortiz." The huge explosion had them all ducking. Haslinger was shoved into the chopper as the first floor of the house collapsed.

At the same time, elsewhere on Luzon, M31 operatives and members of the Philippine army, including both entities' Explosive Ordnance Disposal units neutralized the devices, explosives and the software programming calculated to blow up the three major dams in Luzon. These supplied power and water to the Philippine capital as well as its neighboring provinces that grew rice, the staple food of the people.

As the rich and famous partied away on Ceferino Yuhuangco's private island, they didn't even notice that two of their guests had not turned up. In the capital, the impoverished masses went about their daily lives, laboring in the tropical heat as they did every day, their half-naked children scrounging amongst the garbage heaps. Big and small, young and old, they huddled in shanty huts at night to watch the latest Tagalog soap on TV, oblivious to the catastrophe that had been averted.

 

_A few days after Operation Sirin_

_San Diego_

"What do you mean he doesn't want to see me or talk to me?" Jax asked, wincing as the stab of pain lanced through his chest. "I called him from MediCom but he wasn't picking up. The rest of the team didn't get home until yesterday and Nick said his room was cleared out. His bikes are gone." Jax himself had been warded at MediCom upon his arrival in San Diego. Despite the M31-issued Kevlar and modified bullets, Jax had suffered a fractured rib and internal bruising.

Alex shrugged. "He needs time out to process all that's happened."

"What do you mean ‘all that's happened'? What's that got to do with not talking to me?"

"Do you realize it's been less than a month since he came to us? In that short time, he's had to grapple with his amnesia, recovered from several major surgeries, gone on an assignment in Tangier, killed a man to save you, lived with a bunch of misfits," Alex ignored the lift of Jax's brow at the description. "and tangled with the White Phoenix."

"All in a day's work for a CIA operative." Jax said.

"And there you have the answer to your question." Alex turned to look out his window. "He's not cut out for this. Don't forget he'd already decided he didn't want to do this for the next ten years. And as it tends to happen, it all escalates right when you're about to hang up your gun." Alex turned round to look at Jax. "Something happened back there in the Philippines that he's not telling me about. Any idea what that might be?" He'd spoken to Quinn while the latter was on his flight out of the Philippines, relieved his son had gotten out safely. He'd been told Quinn had been knocked out to stop him from blowing Luis' cover. According to Nick whose ‘bullets' had ripped into Luis' M31-issued bullet-proof vest, Quinn had been affected by Luis being shot and had rushed towards him. Nick had responded instinctively to protect their cover and knocked Quinn out. Once they'd gotten the White Phoenix men out of the area, the rest of Nick's team members had removed Quinn and Luis then blown up the house.

As far as the White Phoenix was concerned, the Firebird was dead.

"Nothing that I can think of," Jax replied. "His part was relatively smooth-going. He met up with Haslinger and Taggart, Zhuravylov invited him to his hacienda and that was it. The attack took place the same night we were there. Hardly any time for Quinn to get into trouble," Jax said dryly. "Besides, he may not enjoy his line of work but he's competent. He followed orders. So no, I don't know why he's done this disappearing act, I don't know why he won't take my calls -"

"He's not taking anyone's calls, Jax. Not even mine." Alex sighed heavily. "Did anything happen back there?" he asked, as if something had just occurred to him. "With Luis? Don't you think Quinn's reaction on seeing Luis shot and killed in front of him was interesting? Nick told me and it got me thinking."

When Jax hesitated, Alex's mouth tightened and he turned away. "I see."

"Just what do you see, Alex?" Jax snapped.

"Luis fucked him, didn't he?" Alex rounded on Jax. "I warned you, Jax."

"You can't have a very high opinion of your son if you think he lost heart after one fuck." Jax shot back. When Alex didn't respond, he added, "do you think I wanted Luis fucking him? Jax shot out of his seat. "Do you think I would have done what I did back in the Philippines if I had a bloody choice? Well, guess what? I _did_ have a choice. It was either letting your son get fucked by Taggart or just Luis fucking him. Have you ever stopped to think I don't like doing that shit? Your son isn't the only victim of Operation Sirin, Alex." Jax started pacing angrily. "Do you think I hated not telling him that Luis' death would be faked? Would you have sanctioned it if I said I wanted to reveal classified information about a plan we had because I'm fucking this guy and I don't want to lie to him?" He gave a derisive snort. "He wasn't even supposed to be in the room with all of us. He was supposed to stay in _my_ room and Nick was supposed to come get him." Nick did carry the unconscious Quinn out of Zhuravylov's bedroom but that wasn't the point here. Quinn wasn't supposed to hightail it out of Luis' bedroom just when the attack was commencing. _That_ was the bloody point! Jax ran his fingers through his short hair. "I had no reason to warn him about Luis' death. As far as Quinn knows, Luis is part of the White Phoenix. But do excuse me for falling back on my _bad_ habit of not saying more than is necessary."

Alex sighed, Jax had never heard him sigh twice in a discussion before. "He'd walked away from this life and was dragged back because of Dante," Alex said. "And he's angry because he'd fallen for you. You as in Jax. Not Luis. Letting Luis fuck him couldn't have been easy for him. He's not like you. He ran out of Luis' room because to him it was wrong. He doesn't take sex as lightly as you, Jax. He can't switch off his emotions or change who he is by clicking a button."

Jax shot out of his seat a second time. "Fuck you, Alex! Fuck." He jabbed a finger at him. "You." He jabbed the finger again. "You think I enjoy pushing these fucking buttons embedded in my body? The day the White Phoenix gets sentenced and they throw away the key - and that had better happen - these buttons are coming out! _And_ the bloody tat! Just so you know. And if Quinn needs time to do whatever the hell he needs to do to get me out of his system, fine!" He stalked to the door and pulled it open. "I'll see you around." He shut the door behind him with a firm click.

Alone in his office, Alex turned back to the window and watched the paragliders in the distance. _What happened back in the Philippines, Quinn? What are you not telling me?_


	37. PART THREE – Chapter  36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We have reached the final section of this story. A little into this chapter, we will pick up the story from where the Prologue left off. If you recall, we started off with Alex summoning Jax to the Hydra to watch a video and Jax was able to tell Alex the victim of collateral damage was a Harry Mathews. In the previous chapter Quinn found out who Luis really is.
> 
> In this chapter, it's Jax's turn.
> 
> Once again, it's Dante to the rescue but this time it's not Quinn's life but his heart.

_THREE MONTHS LATER_

_May 2008_

_Cabo san Lucas_

 

Quinn cleared the table as the last of the restaurant's customers left. The ‘Closed' sign had already been put up fifteen minutes ago and Rico turned off the lights, leaving on only the one at the restaurant entrance which was at the side of the hotel.

"Ready to call it a night?' Rico asked Quinn. When Quinn had called him three months ago saying he needed a place to hang out for awhile, he'd told his friend his room was there for as long as he needed it. Quinn had arrived with his Harley loaded in the back of his pick-up and a couple of bags. _A long stay, this time, then._

It took a week before Quinn opened up and talked. Then he asked to help out in the hotel, doing whatever needed to be done since Rico refused payment and warned him not to even mention it to Carmen. So Quinn waited on tables, tended to guest arrivals and when he wasn't working, explored the southern tip of the Baja on his bike. After what Quinn had shared, Rico decided it was best to let the man chill on his own a bit. But it was three months now. If Quinn didn't break out of his chill, he'd turn into an icicle.

"A beer first would be nice." Quinn responded.

A few minutes later, they were seated on the hotel's alfresco area overlooking the ocean, beers in hand.

Rico relaxed in his chair, sliding down and grunting in satisfaction. "This is the _second_ best part of the day," he said. "Being able to put my feet up, knowing the people who depend on me to make their day a good one went to bed happy."

Quinn smiled at that. "' _Second_ best part'. And the best part would be?"

"Wanting to wake up to the same thing tomorrow."

Quinn laughed softly. Or was that derisively? "I'm not quite there yet, buddy." These days, if he could sleep, he considered it a miracle and thinking of the next day guaranteed he'd lie awake until dawn.

Rico clinked his bottle against Quinn's. "So you called him yet?"

"No."

"I'm not talking about your father."

"I know."

Rico sighed. "You weren't in the business as long as I was, Quinn, but long enough to know he didn't do anything you or I wouldn't have done under the same circumstances."

Quinn nodded. "That's what I told myself. Been telling myself...but it hasn't removed the distaste I feel for the whole business, Rico. And I don't know if I can live with someone who does that shit for a living. I couldn't even live with myself after awhile, which was what put me in Bradley's crosshairs in the first place."

"That man just had a hard-on for you  - and I mean that literally - you were so deep in the closet you didn't even know you were there. Weasels like him don't take rejection rationally." Rico opened a couple more bottles, passing one to Quinn.

"Thanks." Quinn took the ice-cold beer. "Well, when, and if, I reach that point where I wake up feeling the same way about the people in my life as you do, present company exempted, I'll let you know." He took a long swallow from his bottle.

"When you get there, don't tell me before you tell _him_."

 

_Meanwhile, in Tijuana, Mexico_

Dante rinsed off the lather from the lower half of his face. On the TV, the news reporter confirmed that Reverend William Taggart, John Haslinger and Ivan Zhuravylov had started serving their first day in maximum security, following their convictions for terror acts against the US, murder, and a whole list of other crimes. Shahid Khan and Philip Xu had been sentenced in their respective countries, India and China.

There were still charges against the five by other nations, as well. By the time those boys were eligible for parole, they'd be using walkers and wouldn't be able to remember their own names.

Time to get moving. To get out.

He'd been in hiding since he dropped Quinn off at the warehouse a year and a half ago. He hadn't known if Alex Knight could be trusted but Quinn had been insistent on calling him. With both their lives in danger - two of his team members were already killed - Dante hadn't had much choice. Not in the condition Quinn was in. It was a miracle he'd made it back alive and Dante had had to pull out all the stops to get Quinn flown out without going through the usual channels. He'd just about cashed in all his IOUs - but friends like Quinn were rare. He knew Quinn would do the same for him and he did promise Quinn he wouldn't be left behind no matter what. After he'd watched Alex get Quinn out and into an ambulance, he'd hung around to make sure he wasn't landing in another pile of shit then he'd left.

Together with Beth, his remaining member of the team, now going under the name of Chelsea, they'd gone undercover as a married couple who owned a gym. That was real, though, the gym. He'd bought it a couple of years ago as a retirement business when the time came so it was just a matter of transferring ownership to a Severo Vega and his wife, Chelsea. He'd secured a part-time job guarding a wealthy businessman's son who was an NCIS agent, as a favor to the father. That could come in handy one day.

Shortly after he dropped Quinn off with his new-found father, he'd found out Vargas had run off to Rio de Janeiro and went in search of him, guessing the Spaniard would be able to enlighten him as to who set Quinn up and why.

He'd gotten what he needed to know and would have left Vargas alive (Ramos he had killed before he'd even gotten to Vargas - the man was guarding his boss like a pit bull) but he'd found a DVD with Harry Matthews' name scrawled on it. He'd played it on Vargas' DVD player and when he'd finished watching the two men rape Quinn then throw him to Ramon and his men, he'd cut off Vargas' cock, stuffed it in his mouth then slit his throat.

One down, one to go.

 

_8.00am Alex's residence_

_La Jolla Farms Road_

Alex T. Knight put the cup of steaming Brazilian to his lips, thinking that if he had to live his life all over again, he'd opt to have a nine-to-five job, two point five kids, two cars, a three bedroom suburban house with white picket fence and a retriever.

He could hear DiNozzo's laugh if the man were to hear him. Which he would since they were lunching together, as they often did these days. If not lunch, then dinner.

He heaved a sigh. He'd been feeling irritable lately. Well, since Quinn took off, to be precise. He hoped the boy was alright. He'd received a text message from him last week, just a one-liner, saying he just wanted Alex to know he was fine. _Be thankful for small mercies._

Charles came up to him as he waited for his laptop to power up. "This just arrived for you, Mr. Knight."

Frowning, Alex took it from him and ripped open the package. It was a DVD. 

 

_Next day;_

_KnightShade Comcen_

"Thank you for coming, Quinn." Alex looked at his son, uncertain if a hug would be accepted. Quinn's expressionless face wasn't encouraging. Alex showed Quinn to the sofa in his office. Bridget brought in the bottle of water for Quinn and a pot of _gemaicha_ for Alex.

"You said there was a DVD I needed to watch," Quinn said. "I trust it's urgent or you wouldn't have called, much less asked me to return."

"Why don't you watch the DVD first?" Alex suggested. "And it's something you'll want to do alone. There's a private meeting room through that door. I'll wait for you here until you're done."

Alex showed Quinn to the small conference room with a large LCD screen.

"Just press ‘play'." Alex passed him the remote and dimmed the lights on his way out.

The entire DVD was as long as a full-length movie, including even an intermission. The first half showed him, as Harry Matthews, being raped by Luis then the second half was of him being raped by Ramon and his men.

He had recovered his memory but not all, he realized now. He thought what he'd remembered of Vargas' basement was the entirety but it wasn't. He'd thought together with Vargas, Luis had raped him then beaten him to within a inch of his life. Now he knew it wasn't Luis. _Wasn't Jax after all._ It had been Ramon and his goons.

There was a message at the end of the DVD: "Quinn Masterson was undercover as Harry Matthews. I want the identity of the man with Vargas who raped your son. Vargas has been eliminated. One down. One to go. I'm giving you a number you can reach me. I'm sure you'll ensure it's secure."

"Do you have Dante's number?" Quinn asked Alex when he emerged from the room. "I need to talk to him."

"His number is already saved in your contact list. I've already met with him. Told him what he needed to know and he's filled in the gaps for me." Alex passed Quinn his KnightFone. "Take this back."

"I'm done with KnightShade, Alex. You accepted my resignation."

"I know you are and yes I did, but you're still my son and last I knew, I still own the majority of this company and it's still privately-held _and_ I am still the CEO so if I want to give you a cell phone we developed, I bloody well can. So just use it."

It would be churlish to refuse so Quinn took it and searched for Dante's number.

"I'll be in my office," Alex said.

Quinn's call to Dante had not been a long one. He was in the middle of an assignment and was glad to hear from Quinn. There was still a lot to catch up on so they made plans to meet.

After talking to Dante, Quinn felt better. He may have lost a lover in Jax but he'd gotten back his best friend alive.

After he'd viewed the DVD, Alex had requested that he wait in his office. Alex had a briefing with Jax at the Hydra and would call for Quinn once he was done. Quinn had refused. Jax was the last person he wanted to see even though he now knew it wasn't Jax who nearly killed him but Alex had practically pleaded.

In the end Quinn had relented. He didn't know what Alex's game was but at least he would have the satisfaction of seeing Jax's stunned face when he appeared. He wouldn't get out of KnightShade fast enough after that.

 

_...picking up from the Prologue_

_The Hydra, KnightShade Comcen_

"So you're saying when you left Harry Matthews, he wasn't in the condition you just saw on the video?" Alex asked Jax.

"Not just that. He was alive when I left him."

"Oh, Matthews isn't dead," Alex said, correcting Jax. "He was in a coma but not dead. He survived those horrific injuries. "

"I thought he was dead." Jax mumbled. "All this while I thought he was dead." He rubbed the heel of his palm over his eyes. "That...what you saw. I did what I had to do. V-1 was top priority...I went back for Matthews after V-1 was safely in our possession. Staz and Nick, the three of us. Vargas told us he was on his yacht but when we got there, Matthews was gone and Vargas was screeching on top of his lungs because Matthews wasn't the only one missing, apparently. Vargas was blabbering about a load of other cargo that was missing,  as well. Sounded like his human trafficking sideline. We left him there and returned to Rota." Jax looked up at the green light on the ceiling where the camera was. "How did you get the video?"

"It was delivered to my home this morning. We now know who caused those injuries and why Matthews wasn't on board the yacht when you went back for him."

"Who?" Jax straightened up. "Why _?_ " _And why now?_

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" The lights in the auditorium came on full. The door behind Jax opened and the man who'd turned Jax's life inside out these past months stood at the threshold.

"What are you doing here?" Dumb question. Because even as he asked it, somewhere in the periphery of his mind Jax knew the answer. So why did he ask? _Because I don't know what else to say that wouldn't fuck me up more than I already am._

Quinn walked in until he stood face to face with Jax. "I should have known your death was faked. Just as I should have known who _he_ was. Problem was - you didn't know who _I_ was, did you? Or did you and you just didn't care? Did you ever really want me or were you pretending I was Harry Matthews all this while? Was it all just another RPG for you?"

"Quinn -" Jax reached out for him but Quinn jerked back.

"Don't ever touch me again, Jax Theron." Quinn said, quietly. "Or should it be Luis Salinas Perona d'Aragon?" Quinn turned on his heels.

"Wait a minute." Jax grabbed him despite the earlier warning.

"No, _you_ wait a minute." Quinn retorted, flinging Jax's hand off angrily. "Is that all you're good for? Raping? Coercing men into having sex with you? Beating them afterwards? You can't even tell anymore whether it's real or a fantasy? Is your whole life nothing but one big RPG?" He gave Jax a hard shove on the chest. "Go play your fucking games by yourself! Oh, wait. You have a houseful of guys to do that with. How could I forget?"

"Quinn -" Jax grabbed him again. This time the punch floored him. Fuck. He felt his jaw. "Quinn."

"Let it rest. Harry Matthews is dead. So's Luis. We're done, Jax. Mission accomplished. I'm not cut out for these undercover games. I couldn't play Harry Matthews for eight days never mind eight years the way you lived and breathed Luis d'Aragon. I'm done with this shit." Quinn jabbed a finger at the ceiling where the green light stared at them unblinking. "That goes for you, too, Mr. Knight."

 

_B_ _ack in Alex's office_

"You're saying Quinn's involvement all started with a _coincidence_?" Jax asked, after being summoned to Alex's office. "He doesn't even know Haslinger or Taggart?"

"No, he was just - as the saying goes - at the wrong place at the wrong time." Alex answered.

"He didn't even know Vargas?"

"No." Alex sounded tired. He was. His eyes were bloodshot and he felt the weight of everything on his shoulders today. "He was set up by his handler who had been paid to deliver Quinn to Taggart. Quinn has nothing to do with Operation Sirin and what happened to him in Spain wasn't connected at all with our op. It was just Taggart - Quinn had walked into him being fucked by Haslinger and Taggart couldn't risk it getting out. Quinn's amnesia made it difficult for us to piece everything together. His handler, Bradley, buried the records, sketchy as they were. I didn't come into possession of the contents of the files until recently. Quinn's name wasn't even mentioned but Dante's mission to rescue Petrovsky's kids was."

Jax put his head in his hands. When he looked up at Alex, the weariness on his face was unmistakable. "I've lost him, haven't I?"

 

_One month later; June 2008_

_Santorini_

So here he was on Santorini - four months after Operation Sirin had netted the White Phoenix leaders. Quinn looked out over the Aegean. Alex had told him there was a fifth man still out there but for now, the organization was crippled and there was no doubt they'd get the last leader before he tried rebuilding the White Phoenix.

It had been exactly one and a half years since he was taken to KnightShade. It all felt like just yesterday.

Quinn had agreed to meet Dante in Santorini so he could finish that vacation that had been cut short so abruptly. Elias and Elena had been delighted to see him again and he promised them this time he'd be staying much longer.

He'd gotten a call from Dante early this morning saying he would be arriving in the evening and asked for directions to Quinn's villa. He'd wanted to meet Dante at the ferry terminal but Dante had said there was no need.

After Dante's call, whatever calm he'd managed to achieve since arriving on the island had disintegrated. He'd been restless and angsty, prowling around his single room villa like a caged tiger. In the end, he'd packed a bag and hiked around Oia, ending up in the Sigalas Winery. Knowing Dante would be here soon helped towards soothing the ache in his chest somewhat.

As he sat in the courtyard of the winery having a lunch of roasted eggplant, olives, cheese, freshly-baked bread and a bottle of Assyrtiko, he thought about the phone call he'd received from Alex three days ago. He'd known Alex would guess where he was. After all, it was to Rico that he'd gone after his stay at MediCom. He hadn't given Alex any details then except that Rico was an ex-colleague in the Agency and now ran a small hotel with his wife in Cabo. When he'd got that call to go to KnightShade he'd been reluctant, until Alex had told him Dante had gotten in touch with him and had sent him a DVD of Quinn.

Quinn had been perplexed. Why hadn't Dante tried to contact Rico again? If he did, he would have known Quinn was there. Why contact Alex? And send him a DVD? Of what, Alex wouldn't say. Quinn would have to go to KnightShade and view it himself, Alex had told him. He'd wanted to tell Alex to go to hell but in the end, he'd got on his Harley and gone.

Now he wished he hadn't.

He got back to his villa at five p.m., walking all the way from the winery. Dante would be here any time now so he took a shower and went out to the balcony, leaving the front door open. Once again, as Quinn looked out over the white-washed homes, he felt the sense of calm returning to him. It had been a hell of a few years, one he might never recover from if the last one was anything to go by. For a man who hadn't planned on counter-intelligence as a career, he'd been a spy for close to ten years. For a man who'd planned to be what others would consider whimsical - tree house designer - he'd ended up with guts and gore instead of gardens and greenery. He'd believed himself a one-woman - no, amend that - one-man man but he'd found himself falling for Jax Theron and ending up as addicted to Nicholas Monterey as the rest of M31 was. He'd always thought he was anything but gay but had ended up falling in love not with a woman but with a man who was everything he'd _never_ imagined he'd be attracted to.

In the end that had broken him when all those other things hadn't. He'd rather have the broken bones than the broken heart.Why couldn't he have fallen for some uncomplicated like Dante? No, he'd gone and fallen for a man who'd mistaken him for someone wanting to act out a rape fantasy! It was just too dumb to contemplate.

To add to his misery, he missed Nick like hell. And Staz, not to mention the others even though he hadn't seen much of Adam and the Siamese twins were strange but an inseparable part of the family that M31 had become. For awhile they'd all been the brothers he never had - if one didn't think about the sex, of course.

He's decided to give himself two more months before calling Uncle Geoff about a full-time position at Artistree. He didn't think he could take Morgan's offer after this.

Two strong palms landed on his shoulders, startling him out of his thoughts. Quinn whipped around and broke into a smile. "Dante!" They hugged, looked at each other then hugged some more. Dante clung to him until Quinn had to prise him away.

"What do you expect?" Dante laughed, curving an arm around Quinn's neck and pulling him for a loud kiss on the cheek. "I'm Italian. We're born with touchy-feely genes." Then he let Quinn go, sobering. "How are you, mio caro amico?"

Quinn swallowed. "Could be better but today's better than yesterday."

"You've lost weight." Dante patted Quinn's rib cage."

"Any excuse to cop a feel." Quinn laughed. "So...how long can you stay?"

"Depends." Dante replied vaguely. "C'mon. Fill me in. You got any beer?"

"Sure. Food, too, in case you didn't feel like going out."

They took the beer out to the two deckchairs on the balcony. Both were too wound up to lay down and sat facing each other, knees touching, as they started from the beginning.

* * * * *

The famed Santorini sunset was in full display by the time both men told their sides, though there was still a lot of gaps to be filled. At least the main stuff had been covered.

Dante reached out and cupped Quinn's cheek. "So. You're in love."

Quinn's response was to go back inside to bring out the remainder of the six-pack. "Why didn't you give the DVD to Rico instead of Alex?" he asked, ignoring Dante's statement.

"No need to risk his and Carmen's life once I knew you were alive and safe. Dante replied. "I left for the East Coast after I dropped you with Alex. I'd bought a gym in Washington DC some years back so I worked there awhile, then a few months later, I returned to San Diego and took a job as a trainer in one of the upmarket gyms. Was able to ask some discreet questions. That's how I found out about Alex announcing your existence to the movers and shakers in town.

"Wouldn't that have gotten back to the White Phoenix's ears?" Quinn asked. "That someone's going around asking questions about the very guy they were after?"

"Okay, maybe ‘asking questions' wasn't quite what I was doing." Dante waggled his brows. "I was moonlighting as an escort. You'd be surprised the gossip you pick up when they think you're nothing but a pretty face. Man, there are some pretty bitchy women out there. Not that the men I was escorting were better."

"You escorted men, too? You mean had sex with them? For money?"

"Hey, whatever I did, I did it for you. Including offing Vargas and that piece of slime, Ramon and getting the video to Alex."

"Why did you kill Vargas?"

"I wasn't planning to do that," Dante said. "After I got you out of the yacht, you'd told me you heard Vargas tell Ramon Bradley was behind the whole ruse to get you to Puerto Banus and then to Istanbul. I wanted to know why. Why this elaborate plan just to get rid of you, so when I found out Vargas was in Rio, I headed that way. And you know money gets you anything in Rio so it wasn't hard to find him.

"I was questioning him when I found the DVD. It had your name scrawled on it. I played it there in his bedroom and when I finished, I killed him. You don't really need me to tell you why, do you? After what I saw on the disc, I wanted to kill Ramon but unfortunately, I'd already killed him before I got to Vargas so couldn't kill him again." He drew a breath and looked away momentarily. "Anyway, I kept the disc and waited. With me still in hiding, there wasn't much I could do back home so I laid low in DC with Chelsea, helped buff up bodies to put food on the table -" he saw Quinn's frown but ignored it . "- and when I saw the reports about Taggart, Haslinger and gang getting arrested and charged, I didn't think it had anything to do with us. Not until I read about them being charged with murdering several government agents, one of them being Bradley, that I began to dig more. And found the connection but I still don't know why they wanted you. You must have something they want, or know something they want to keep quiet."

Quinn gave a one-shoulder shrug. "I don't know what that could be. I've never dealt with either Taggart or Haslinger. Wait, I did walk in a couple having sex in Petrovsky's house. Didn't think anything of it as I needed to piss badly and it was my room, after all. But now, I remember a fleeting thought that crossed my mind - that the guy looked like the one I almost collided with at Alex's cocktail. That was Haslinger. But why would he want to kill me even if I caught him screwing around on his wife? Men like him do it all the time."

"Well, we may find out later once the full reports get released. If ever," Dante said. "From what I've read so far, those guys aren't talking any more than they've already done. Mainly because the other two, Xu and Khan are still awaiting trial back in their respective countries. We might find out, we might not, coz you gotta admit, you and I are pretty small fish compared to them. We're probably just collateral damage. Anyway, whatever the White Phoenix had to do with you, there was still the matter of what Vargas and Luis did to you. With the people after us behind bars, I felt I had the luxury of coming out of the woodwork to search for that second man. I moved back to San Diego. Up until then, I'd been commuting between DC and San Diego. I sent the copy of Vargas' disc to Alex. I knew after he viewed it, he'd want to get his hands on the guy with Vargas who raped you." Dante fell silent for a few moments.

"You didn't figure on that man turning out to be someone Alex loves like a son." Quinn added.

"Or that he'd turn out to be the man _you_ loved. But then, neither did Alex or Jax expect Harry Matthews to be you. Alex didn't even know until the end of the video. We met up when he called me after seeing the vid. According to him, he thought he was watching a snuff movie involving a blonde and Luis. He kept saying Luis had to go, that the alter-ego was becoming a danger to Jax's mind."

"No, Jax is far stronger than that," Quinn said, annoyed that he was defending him.

"If you say so. Now, tell me - why are you hiding out here?"

"Needed some time and space. The usual -"

"Excuses?" Dante supplied. "How many more excuses are you going to give yourself to justify your pigheadedness and your dumb-assidity?"

"Hey. I thought you were my friend. And there's no such word as ‘dumb-assidity'."

"There is now." Dante retorted. "If Sam were alive, he'd tell you the same thing. But he's not and Alex is still a stranger. He's still getting used to having a grown-up son and one that ended up caught in an unbelievable quagmire."

"You have no idea what I'd been going through since you left me with Alex. Don't mistake me. I owe you. I know that but there's helluva lot more that went on than me just me recuperating from my injuries and finding my biological father."

"Just what exactly are you mad about, Quinn? That Jax happened to be in the same place, at the same time and had the same target as we did? That he was doing his fucking job, one he's been doing for eight years? That he went back for you when he heard Vargas was planning to shanghai you to Istanbul?" Dante raked his fingers through his hair. "Oh, you didn't know that? Because you never gave him a chance to explain, did you? Not that he owed you one, understand?" Dante took another swig of his beer, holding up a finger and wagging it at Quinn when he opened his mouth to say something.

"Unh-uh. You just shut up and listen." Dante put his beer down on the low table with a thud. "Yes, Quinn. He went back for you. He, Staz and Nick who, I was told, is driving everyone crazy because he wants you to be found and brought back." Dante squinted at the setting sun's rays. "Why is Nick pining for you? I thought it's Jax you're involved with." When, after several seconds, Quinn looked at him but didn't answer, Dante stared at him open-mouthed. "You're kidding, right? Never mind, I don't wanna know. So yeah, those three went back to Vargas' villa to get you out and you know that's not what he was obligated to do. And that pub incident, Southern Something. You know it wasn't his -"

"Leave that. I know that wasn't his fault."

"Well, that's generous of you." Dante said, sarcastically.

"You want to sleep out on the road tonight?"

Dante laughed, shaking his head. "So what does that leave us with? The final mission in the Philippines? Do you think Alex would have told me Luis is Jax if it weren't for the fact that Luis is believed dead and Alex has decided the Firebird will never rise from the ashes? If they were going to keep the undercover ID for future use, he wouldn't have told me. The idea to off Luis during the operation was a last-minute decision by Jax. Alex knew only _after_ the mission! Why the fuck do you think they would tell you everything? Because you're the boss' son? Because you were fucking Jax? Or was he fucking you? No, that can wait. So?" he leaned forward till he was almost touching Quinn. "You think you're so fucking special you shouldn't have been put in the need-to-know slot? Quinn, that man is so in love with you and he's done everything a man who loves you would do except be stupid about it. That's what's made him such a good operative. The best, if I may say so. I've heard about the Firebird. Just never had the honor of meeting him though if I did, we would have been on opposite sides." Dante heaved a sigh. "Hear what I'm saying, Quinn. You were dealing with the best. You were way out of your league and your reaction to all this proves it." He saw the stricken look on Quinn's face and his voice softened. "Look, you were a good agent. If you weren't, I would have been the first to tell you because I care about you. Just as Rico does.

"You're not the Firebird, Quinn. And you're not just an accidental spook. I love the man who's also the landscaper designer, the anal engineer-architect; the guy who loves pottering around in the garden and will still be doing that when he's eighty. I'm telling you that's the man the Firebird fell for, too, not the spook."

Finished with his rant, Dante got up and went to bend over the balcony rail.

After several minutes of silence, he felt rather than saw Quinn coming up to stand beside him. He didn't look at him but kept his gaze on the orange ball of fire slowly sinking into the horizon.

"I'm not as sure as you are about the way he feels for me," Quinn said quietly. "I wasn't sure if the life of a government agent was what I wanted. I wasn't sure if I was gay." He turned to Dante. "But I've never been more certain in my life that I love him. I agree with everything you just said. He's gotten out far worse than me and all I did was wallow in my self-pity. Just more proof that I'm not cut out for this job."

Dante gave him a wry smile. "Hey, don't be too hard on yourself. That's _my_ job." He pulled Quinn in for a hug. "You're forgetting something."

"What?"

"That you love him. It can screw up our reasoning. Why do you think I never fall in love?"

"Famous last words." Quinn warned.

Dante laughed. "Amico, if I am ever so dumb as to fall in love, you'll be the first to know."

"I'm holding you to that."

"Well, are you going to waste time here on this island or are you going to get your man?"

"I'll see if we can get a flight." Quinn took out his cell phone. "You're coming back with me?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world. If you hurry, you can get back in time for his parents' 30th wedding anniversary celebration. "He'll probably kill me for telling you this but he's planning to dig out your whereabouts from Alex then do some groveling, if need be."

That piece of news cheered Quinn up considerably. "So what should I do? Wait here for him to turn up?"

"No, you surprise him."


	38. PART THREE – Chapter  37 & EPILOGUE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We come to the final chapter of the story. 
> 
> Dante does what best friends do when you're in the shits - come to the rescue! Quinn pulls his head out of his butt and goes get his man.
> 
> Life doesn't stand still when you're a KnightShade man, though, so the M31 boys find themselves heading out for Hawaii to oversee the setting-up of their new training center. There are still loose ends to tie up for Operation Sirin and Jax will complete his mission without the help of the Firebird. Luis is dead and will stay dead for Quinn's sake.

One and a half years since Spain.

Six months since his Harley roared into KnightShade USA.

Four months since he last saw Jax.

Quinn tabbed the button on his KnightFone. "Dad?"

"Quinn. How are you?" Alex sounded guarded, and with good reason, Quinn thought. They may have their reasons for doing and thinking what they did but if their relationship - his with Alex, his with Jax - was to go anywhere, it was time for some no-holds-barred honesty and maturity.

"I need to talk. To apologize." Quinn paused. There was no response from the other end. "I'm sorry, Alex. For the way I walked out, for seeing things only from my perspective. I'm coming back home...if I'm still welcome."

"You never left as far as I'm concerned, son."

 "Thank you." After a beat, he added, "Dad."

"I'll pick you up if you can leave tomorrow morning. It's on my way home."

Quinn let go of the breath he'd forgotten he was holding. "Dad, I'm in Santorini. I was about to book my flight when I thought I'd call you first."

"I know where you are. I'm in Cairo. I'm flying out in the morning. I'll swing by and pick you both up. Dante still there?"

"Yes, he is. Thanks, Dad. Just let me know what time you want us to be at the airport. Oh Dad - keep this between us, okay? I don't want anyone to know I'm going back. Yet."

"I understand. You're free to do it your way, your time." 

After the call to Alex, Dante decided he was in the mood for a proper dinner. They ended up in Taverna Elias, of course, which, like all Santorinian restaurants, opened until past midnight.

"Wow." Dante said, as one of the waiters led them to a table. "What a magnificent view!"

That it was. Though Taverna Elias was a small restaurant, it had an enviable location - right on the edge of the caldera on the westernmost end of Oia. The sun had set but its dying rays still streaked through the clouds and the lights from the villages along the edge of the caldera glittered like diamonds.

"The house has been in Elias' family for generations." Quinn to Dante. "His grandfather turned it into a restaurant when friends started paying him to let them eat here. With the view, the inexpensive prices and the simple but delicious food, it became a favorite of the locals and the tourists."

Elias came out to say hello, bringing out a bottle of wine for them.

"It is a busy night so I cannot sit down," Elias told them apologetically. "Why don't you come by for lunch tomorrow? My cousin will be looking after the kitchen so I can have a glass of ouzo with you, heh?"

"Sorry, Elias. I have to leave tomorrow morning."

"O-o-ohhh..."Elias drew out the single syllable with an expression of alarm on his face. "You tell Elena." He shook his head. "She expecting you to stay one more month at least. She say your Greek still sucks." He looked at Dante. "Is that right expression? ‘Still sucks'?"

" Oh, it sure is." Dante grinned. "There's an important event Quinn has to attend otherwise he wouldn't leave this paradise."

"Né. I know he loves my island." Elias patted Quinn's shoulder. "You go but you return, né?

"Né." Quinn nodded. "Always."

* * * * *

"Alex. Sir." Staz rubbed his palm over his top lip. He rarely phoned Alex. Never needed to. Whenever they talked, it was at the Hydra together with the team de-briefing.

"Yes, Staz?" Alex's surprise was evident in his voice.

"I, uhh, am wondering if you know where I can get in touch with Quinn."

"Yes, I do but I can't tell you. He's asked for time alone."

"Okay, but the thing is, sir - Nick is taking it pretty bad. He believes it was his fault that Quinn had to see Luis get shot. He's saying he should have found Quinn first."

Alex sighed. "Hasn't Jax spoken to him?"

"No, sir. Jax's been on a tour of our facilities in NC and New Mexico and OUTCONUS for one and a half months. You haven't spoken to him?"

"He has been calling in once week or more." _Always to ask if anyone had heard from Quinn_.

"I know he's on a tour and a review of our training facilities with Rohan." Alex replied. "I haven't spoken with him."

"Alex." Staz breathed a heavy sigh. "Is there anything you can do to help, sir? We're in a lull right now. Jax put us on vacation time so we're kinda stuck with each other twiddling our thumbs and Nick's driving us all up the wall. I can handle that, I mean, I just wanted to know if there was something you or I could do to bring Quinn home."

 _Bring Quinn home_. "I'm afraid that's something Quinn has to decide for himself. All I can tell you is that he's alright. He's meeting up with Dante so he's not alone. You know that saying, ‘If you love something, let it go. If it comes back to you, it's yours forever.'"

"If it doesn't, then it was never meant to be.'" Staz finished for him. "Got it, boss, but it's hard, you know. This waiting."

"I know, Staz. It's hard for me, too. But from the short time I've known my son, I'm confident he'll come through. Give him that bit of time he's asked for. He might just surprise you yet."

 

_ KnightShade Training Facility; _

_ North Carolina _

"He's meeting Dante but he won't even talk to me?" Jax slammed his mug down, sloshing coffee on the table and scalding his fingers. "Fuck!"

"He got involved because of Dante." Adam reminded him. "Dante's his best friend, don't forget."

"And I'm dog shit?"

Adam gave him a pointed look which had Jax cursing again.

"You're the man he's in love with." Adam pointed out. "And you know how that screws everything up. Why do you think I keep myself unshackled? ‘Never fall in love' is what I remind myself before I go to sleep each night."

Jax snorted. "I can't wait for the day the strong and mighty fall." He picked up his coffee. "Did Alex say anything else? Where's this Dante, anyway?"

"That's all Alex told me - that Quinn spoke to Dante after viewing the disc and Jax, what was on that disc - are you surprised you're dog shit to Quinn? Sure, you didn't know Harry Matthews was Quinn and if Quinn had known you were Luis, we wouldn't be discussing this. He could have gone through his life blissfully unaware but he got his memory back. Not only did he realize it was Luis who raped him, somehow he guessed Luis was you." Adam contemplated his coffee for a moment before adding, "You know - that tells you how intimately he knows you. Before that night in Zhuravylov's place, he hadn't had any interaction with Luis but I bet the minute you started making love to him, he felt something familiar. Your natural scent, perhaps. Or the way you touch him as Jax. Whatever it was, he recognized you.

"You did everything right, missions-wise," Adam continued. "But we're talking about that Love thing. Quinn will need time for his head to catch up with his heart."

Jax looked at Adam as if the man had just sprouted horns. "Are you a trauma surgeon or Dear Abby?" He drained his mug and stood. "The tests are starting in ten. Let's go."

"Flight back tomorrow is at seventeen hundred." Adam reminded Jax. "And it's your parents' wedding anniversary celebration, too."

Home. Jax couldn't imagine it without Quinn. He'd been there from the very first day, made himself at home. In more ways than one, Jax thought as he and Adam made their way to the range. He remembered their first kiss on the stairs; those hickeys he'd left on Jax's neck. Despite the heaviness that had taken residence in his chest, Jax chuckled softly.

"Something amusing?" Adam asked.

Jax shook his head. "I'm not sure."

Adam didn't press him, knowing these days who it was that occupied Jax's thoughts.

"I was thinking about how despite his reticence and the way we met, Quinn fit in so easily once he made up his mind to."

"He was surprised, too," Adam said. Adding, when Jax glanced at him. "He told me that."

"He did, did he?"

"Yes. When we had dinner once and the couple of times we had coffee down in the cafeteria. He also mentioned that if you and he hadn't met in the err, unusual way that you did, he doubted if he would have accepted Alex's idea that he stay with you."

"Why not?"

"You're not his type, apparently."

"Oh, and my raping him - even though it was meant to be a game - _that_ made me his type?" Jax shook his head and gave a huff. "Something's not matching up here."

"He meant that after what happened at the Southern Hole and who his would-be rapist turned out to be, it became a challenge to him. He needed to get past the incident and he figured Alex's suggestion was the test. Would he meet it face on or turn and run."

Jax absorbed that for a few moments. "And he did very well, didn't he?" he said, softly. "He had his sexuality to grapple with at the same time. He had a hard-on, you know. At the Southern Hole. That was why as far as I knew, it was a rape fantasy and the guy got turned on by non-con. But what I was meaning to say was that he had enough on his plate to deal with."

"You mean being raped and beaten till he was nearly dead," Adam said. "Discovering his biological father, handling the ‘Am I gay?' issue, attempted rape by a madman and his goons at a gay bar, looking for his best friend who was reported dead but is not, finding out bad guys are after him for reasons he doesn't know...oh yes, and he lost one whole week of his memory...what else?"

"Falling in love with me then learning I'm the guy who raped him for real in that lost week of his." Jax added to Adam's list.

"Sounds like more than _anyone_ can handle in that short space of time. So what do you plan to do?"

Jax squinted in the noon day sun at the KnightShade trainers getting into position at the firing range. Every six months their trainers had to undergo fitness tests. Not just to check their health but to test their ability to lead the course programs. Every day, those trainers took SEAL teams, Delta Force, DEA, FBI and several other government defense agencies through their paces. The KnightShade men needed to not only know their stuff, they needed to be as good as their clients and several steps ahead of the newbies.

As Jax unlatched the gate that led to the range, he said, "I'm going to get him back. I'll leave as soon as I make an appearance at mom and dad's anniversary."

"Do you know where to find him?"

"No, but Alex does. He's still in Cairo but he'll be back in time for the celebration. I'll get it out of him then."

 

_Friday Night, May 2008_

_Theron Residence, Laguna Beach, CA._

Marielle had pulled out all the stops tonight, Jax saw, as he clicked the remote for the basement garage instead of letting the car jockey park it. He'd driven here alone, leaving his men to make their own arrangements. He'd spoken to them earlier when he and Adam got in from their NC facility. Nick had come into his room and judging by the mulish look on his face, Jax knew exactly what was on his mind.

"Nick, he'll be back." He'd said as he got dressed.

"It's been four months, Jax. Four fucking months!" Nick had said, anger and worry marring his features. Anger, because ever since he and Jax had calibrated the terms of their relationship and Staz had come through, Nick considered himself belonging to those three men. Now, one of them was missing and Nick was not a happy camper. Guilt warred with anger, because he was still unconvinced he wasn't to blame for Quinn witnessing Luis' ‘death'.

Nick's relationship with Quinn was still new, just as Quinn's with the team was. So far, they'd only had time to explore the sexual aspect of their relationship and to get used to the group dynamics. There hadn't been time to know each other intimately, to explore the emotional equation but despite all this, Nick felt a bond between him and Quinn. Nowhere as strong as his with Staz and Jax, of course, but he knew in time it would be.

Jax, of all people, ought to know better than to expect Nick to "get over it".  Jax didn't believe he'd get over it himself for a long while, if ever, so who was he to talk.

Quinn wasn't the only one who felt it was time for a career change. Jax had already decided to return to Theron-Knight Atomics as executive director working alongside with Hayden and Jordan. Adam, too. There were great strides being made in the biomedical-engineering field, new and better ways to protect their soldiers, to put Humpty-Dumpty back together when he fell in the line of duty. Adam's passion had always been in preserving life, in improving the quality of life. He hated the taking of it but accepted it as a fact of life.

There were no guests yet but they'd be arriving soon. Jax entered the spacious foyer of his parents' home and immediately heard his sister.

"Jax!" Marielle turned as she heard him speak to James, their father's personal assistant. "You're very early." She went up to him and kissed him. "What's wrong?"

"Something's wrong because I'm here early?" Jax's brows went up. "Where's mom and dad?"

"They're in their room getting dressed but don't change the subject."

"I should go greet Caspar, anyway."

"He's still napping. You can greet him when he comes down later. Come on, you're not getting away." She pulled him along like a little kid even though she was younger than him by eight years. "Rosa, bring us a jug of lemonade, please." She told the maid as they sat on the terrace overlooking the pool below. Caspar's birthday party had been held indoors but their parents' celebration looked like it was a wedding held in a space-age resort. There were flowers everywhere and the party organizer guys were hurrying in and out, the wait staff were dressed in white jumpsuits looking like astronauts without their helmets.

"This is weird," Jax muttered. "I feel like I'm on board the Enterprise."

Marielle shrugged an elegant and bare shoulder. "That's because this house _is_ the Enterprise. That's the story I'm sticking to, anyway. It's such a monstrosity. Jaw-dropping but still a monstrosity," she said of their parents' Lautner-designed house.

"I like it, actually," Jax said. "Just don't care for the astronaut wedding theme. Mom and Dad are celebrating their anniversary, not getting married again so what's with the flowers?"

"But they are. They're renewing their vows." Marielle waved that away. "Never mind that. So what's going on? You look less than your usual gorgeous self. You're either not getting your beauty sleep or you need lessons on eye make-up." At Jax's puzzled expression, she added, "You're wearing dark eye-shadow _under_ your eyes instead of _on_ your eyelids. No - " she held up a finger when her brother opened his mouth. "You know what I mean. Now, give me all the details. And I know it's got to do with that man." Marielle swatted Jax on the arm when he opened his mouth again. "And don't say ‘what man'!"

Jax broke into a grin. "You mean Quinn." When Marielle merely tapped her sandaled foot, he leaned back on his seat and looked out at the ocean-view. "He walked out on me. I can't give you details, you know that. Something happened to make him decide there couldn't be a future with me so he left. That's it."

"And you let him? The first man you've ever fallen in love with? Hey, no - c'mon, this is your sister you're talking to. We don't see each other much these days but we've always been close. Closer than we are to Maxwell and Marcus." Marielle said, referring to their twin brothers."

"He told Alex he needed time to process things. He's been through a lot the past twelve months."

"So do other people, Jax. I can't believe you're just sitting there and not going after him."

"And you are a nosy little woman." Jax tugged on her hair. "Don't you know we Therons don't butt in on other people's private business? Especially family members'?"

"That's what you think, bro. The truth is that we don't unless it's causing hurt to the one we love and we can all see that you aren't your old self. Mom and dad asked me if I knew what was wrong - why they would ask me, I don't know. It's not as if I see you any more than they do. Anyway, shows you how concerned they are. Mom said you looked sad as shit. Okay, she didn't say ‘shit'.

"And I'm worried, too, Jax. It's hard enough trying to understand why you'd do what you do for a living when you don't need the money. And you know mom, she's worried your depression has something to do with what happened to you...you know what I mean."

"I know, sis, and no, I am not depressed nor has it got anything to do with my abduction . That was a very long time ago." Jax said. "If you'll let me get a word in, I can tell you what you want to hear."

Marielle made a zipping motion against her pursed lips.

Jax wrapped an arm around her and pulled her to him, kissing the top of her head. "I'm going to find him as soon as I leave tonight."

Marielle pulled away to look at him. "You are?"

"Yes."

"You know where he is?"

"Not yet but Alex does."

"You'll be asking him to come back?"

"Yes."

"Will it include begging?"

"If need be."

"Groveling?"

"You drive a hard bargain, sis."

"You love him, don't you?"

Jax sighed. "Too much."

"There you are." Marielle smiled in triumph.

* * * * *

After Justin C. Theron and Katerina Isabella Ferra renewed their vows to a shower of rose petals, the small orchestra struck up the first notes of an old classic Italian love song. The music filled the evening and in keeping with the occasion, little bouquets of roses with scented oil lamps floated on the two-tiered infinity pool. Though it was a buffet dinner, waiters took orders from guests who chose not to get their own food.

"I'm getting my own," Staz said. "Or I might just end up with a single paper-thin slice of chicken breast and rabbit food."

"I'm coming, too," Nick said, getting up. The others followed and most of the other male guests seemed to have the same idea while the women chose to utilize the waiters, preferring to stay at their tables and chat.

An hour later, after they'd eaten, Jax announced he was going to have a word with Alex then he was leaving.

"Don't come back without him," Nick said. The others looked on expectantly.

"I won't. I promise."

Jax found Alex with the Senator Robert Huntington after searching for him among the crowd. Alex saw him first and waved to him.

"Hi Alex. Good evening, Senator." Jax greet them. "Would you please excuse Alex for a minute, sir?"

"I'll be right with you, Jax," Alex said. "Need to take a leak. Stay and chat with Robert."

Jax was still chatting with the senator when the band stopped and the sound of applause began. Jax turned to see his parents take the mike, thanking their guests for sharing the occasion with them.

Justin spoke about how he'd felt when he first met Katharine. "I just knew, when I took her hand and looked into those blue eyes, that she had me by the b's," he said to laughter. "She's still got them in her hands to this day." He hugged Katherine closer and kissed her. Gently at first, then Justin looked out at his friends and family, gave them a wink and turned back to his wife, dipping her over his arm and kissing her melodramatically, this time to applause. The band started up again at that moment and Justin led his wife to the opening dance.

Monica Adamo, an upcoming jazz singer who was Katherine's favorite singer, took the mic and began singing Italian classic love songs. Songs she'd grown up listening in her parents' and grandparents' homes in the Italian town of Amalfi.

The ache in Jax's chest started again as he watched his parents dance to the romantic song.

"Wonderful, isn't it?" Huntington said. "To see them still so in love after thirty years. Your father's not had eyes for any other woman ever since he met your mother."

"Yes, they're unique, my parents. To find a love like that." The band started the first few notes of _Senza Fine_ , his mother's favorite song and Monica began singing the haunting song. Other couples had joined Justin and Katherine. The ache in his chest tightened to a sharp pain. Where the hell was Alex?

"May I have this dance?" The voice stopped Jax's breathing. Unbelieving, he whirled around.

Quinn stood there holding out his right hand, palm up.

Jax's throat tightened as he took it and Quinn led him down to the dance-floor and drew Jax into his arms.

"Quinn -"

"Shhh." Quinn whispered against Jax's ear. "Let's talk later when we get home."

Home. Sounded promising. "Just one question, then? I just need a yes or no."

Quinn nodded. "Just yes or no."

"Are you staying?"

"If you'll have me."

 _Better than a yes or no._ Jax smiled and pulled Quinn tighter to him, burying his face in the crook of his neck. He inhaled the intoxicating scent as if were necessary for life and held on as if he couldn't exist apart from this man. As that struck home, Jax shifted back slightly. "One more question? Just one. Yes or no." Quinn's low chuckle sent a tremor through Jax. _Oh God, make it a ‘yes'._

"Alright, one last question." Quinn agreed.

"Will you marry me?" Jax asked.

Quinn's breath hitched and for a moment, the two men stood still in the sea of dancers, a few inches apart. It felt like an eternity to Jax and the gap between them, an universe-wide.

Then Quinn pulled Jax in and said against his ear. "Yes, sweetheart. I will."

 

 

**Epilogue**

 

_0600hours_

_A Few Weeks Later_

"We're going where?" Quinn asked, lifting his head up to look at Jax, fingers still grasping his fiance's hard cock.

"Hawaii." Jax's fingers carded through Quinn's hair.

"Why?"

"You really want to talk _now_?" Jax eyed his weeping cock.

"Yes." Quinn scooted up so he was face-to-face with Jax.

Jax sighed. "Yes, we're flying to Hawaii. Noon today."

"Why?"

"Engagement party."

"Whose?"

"Ours."

Quinn scrambled off the bed. "Ours." He repeated. "That some kind of classified project? Coz that's the only reason I can think of for my not knowing about it until...like six hours before we fly out."

"I didn't know until last night." Jax replied, yawning but getting out of bed, anyway. Staz would be up and probably doing his laps in the pool by now. The Cajun was usually up at five and hitting the gym before his morning swim.

The two men went about their morning ablutions before emerging from their bedroom. Jax was still wanting to wrap himself around Quinn but the latter was curious about their sudden trip. He'd been to several tropical islands in the South Pacific and Asia yet had never been to Hawaii. He gave a low chuckle as Jax nuzzled his neck and wouldn't let go of his cock.

"Coffee," he said, kissing Jax back. "I need coffee." He could smell the fragrant brew from where they were. He dragged Jax along until they reached the kitchen.

"I need you." Jax pushed Quinn against the kitchen counter and dropped to his knees. From where he was, facing the pool patio, Quinn could see Staz and Nick going away at it already. He glanced down at the dark blonde head, the tanned fingers cradling his balls and the tongue lapping at his hard length.  He guessed coffee could wait. "Let's join those two out there."

Jax looked up from where he was - and grinned like a kid told he could go out and play. He straightened up and pulled Quinn along.

"Cuppa coffee first." Quinn pulled away and quickly grabbed the first mug he could.

* * * * *

"'morning, Staz." Quinn dropped down on the day bed next to the big man and gave him a kiss on the lips. Jax slid down next to Nick and gave him a long one, tongues tangling, his palm cupping Nick's cheek.

Jax finally looked up and at the huge cock that was slowing thrusting in and out of Nick. He shifted so his lips were right at the two groins, one hand curling around Nick's erection, the other around his thigh. Against his cheek, Staz's cock continued its push and pull, only this time the drag of Jax's tongue was added to the sensations.

"'mornin' guys." Staz's greeting was a little breathless. Perfectly understandable, Quinn thought, as he took another swallow of coffee then joined Jax to watch Nick getting fucked, yet again.

It was like turning on the morning news or drinking the first cup of the day, this morning sex ritual. Routine. Comforting. Home. With that thought, he put down his mug and positioned himself behind Jax, lubing them both up before sliding in balls-deep with a satisfied grunt.

They were still fucking away, speeding to their climaxes when the remaining three members of M31 joined them, bringing out a tray of croissants, scrambled eggs and a mountain of bacon. And more coffee. Just another day in M31 paradise.

* * * * *

" _The engagement of Jax Theron, eldest son and scion of the Theron family to Quinn Masterson-Knight, son of longtime family friend, Alexander Knight, was officially announced today._ " Photos of the two men were flashed on the screen. " _According to a Theron family spokesman, no wedding date has been fixed but is expected to be within the next few months and at an undisclosed location. The thirty-five year old son of billionaire Justin Theron, recently received the shares owned by his grandfather, Caspar, in Theron-Knight Atomics, making him the youngest multi-billionaire -_ -"

"I wasn't the spokesman," Jax told Quinn as he turned off the volume of the tablet pc and poured himself another cup of coffee. "I was warned that the news would be carrying it today -"

"Who warned you?" Quinn asked, biting into his croissant.

"Baxter. Who else?"

"Who told the media?"

"My mother." Jax replied. "And _your_ father confirmed it."

"There're some guys stationed outside our front door. The reporters are expected any minute now."

"Why?" Quinn asked. "Are you famous or something?"

Jax flicked him am amused glance. "Must be a slow day in L.A. They gotta come down over to San Diego for some news."

"If I know anything about our mothers," Adam chimed in. "I'd say your mom already had the press release ready weeks ago but was hoping she could get a wedding date out of you."

"Why is it that I didn't know about any of this?" Quinn asked.

"You know we're getting married, don't you?" Jax asked.

"Yes."

"You know I love you."

"Yeah."

"What else is important?" Jax asked, seriously mystified. "You don't mean you want to get involved with planning the wedding, do you?" He looked horrified. When Quinn hesitated, horror turned to terror. "You do. You mean you want to talk about what kind of flowers and shit?"

Quinn laughed. "No. Yes. Don't look at me like that. You don't have to go anywhere near all that. I'll handle it with your mom and your sister."

"You promise?"

"Cross my heart. Just tell me when's the big day. I think I should know that, at least."

Jax scratched his naked balls. "I dunno. Didn't really think about it. I was just going to get the lawyers to draw something up, we sign the docs then go out to dinner or something." He saw Quinn's expression and quickly added, "we can invite some friends."

"Lawyers don't marry people." Quinn said, arms crossed over his chest. "They handle divorces. Besides, just signing docs and going out to dinner is not going to be acceptable to your mom, sweetcakes."

"And that's the reason why we're flying to Hawaii in a few hours." Jax told him. "To escape. I was due to fly out next month to start overseeing the move of D&T over to Kauai. It's a big project so expect to be stationed there for two years at least. After Baxter's call last night, I decided we should move it up. We might as well take a break. A long one. I haven't had a vacation in eight years so I think a one-month break is not too much to ask." He stopped to look at Quinn. "Can you take the time out? You haven't told me what you plan to do."

That little note of uncertainty was there. Maybe unnoticeable to others but to Quinn, it was loud and clear. "I can take the time," he said. "We can discuss what my options are while we're having our pre-wedding honeymoon."

"Great." Jax smiled with relief. "And you'll take care of the flowers and shit when the time comes?"

* * * * *

And so, the boys of M31 flew to Honolulu that day, arriving at 1pm and chauffeured to their house at Laie Point on Oahu's north shore.

Though it was meant to be a vacation, it still ended up being a working holiday because, as Jax said, the transfer of KnightShade D&T was a massive project, involving Theron-Knight Atomics as well. Since KnightShade recently opened a training facility on Kauai, Quinn decided to take that on and, together with Rohan, fine-tuned the fitness and training schedules.

Shortly after they settled down in Hawaii, commuting between Kauai and Oahu, Nick left on an undercover assignment. Intel had come in that a Florida-based entrepreneur, Eduardo Hierra, had been named by John Haslinger as one of the contacts of the White Phoenix. M31 was aware that Haslinger had been the terror organization's main contact in the US but they had been keeping a few others on their surveillance list as well. Hierra was one of the suspects and with Manuel Vargas dead, Hierra was a probable link for the White Phoenix since he not only dealt in South American "goods" but his human trafficking business in Asia was a major source of his income. Chatter had it that he'd taken over his buddy Vargas' European connection. That made Hierra a very valuable tool for the White Phoenix.

However, all that would have been moot if not for the fact that Haslinger had confirmed there was a fifth man still out there and who would likely seek out Hierra now that Haslinger was useless to him and Vargas was dead. Haslinger was a valuable asset especially for the Washington circuit but he'd been murdered the day following his interrogation.

M31 already had a replacement in mind. One that would be even more valuable because of his extensive international influence - Anthony DiNozzo Snr, venture capitalist and entrepreneur. And a seasoned agent of influence.

Nick had been sent in to infiltrate Hierra's ranks to get more info. He'd successfully done that, releasing M31's latest surveillance equipment, called the Mini-Hydra, into Hierra's compound. He had been planting one on Hierra's yacht, anchored offshore from Hierra's oceanside house in West Florida when he'd been made and captured.

So while Quinn hadn't been expecting a real honeymoon, he hadn't been expecting to spent his vacation extracting Nick from a man who sold kids, either. They got Nick back, a little worse for wear, but alive and still kicking and the team refused to let the young man out of their sight after that. Nick, being Nick, basked in the sunshine of attention and, hey, they had to say it - the 'well-fucked' look looked good on him.

Overseeing the design and construction of a training center in the tropical heat was tiring and gruelling but seeing Nick's welcoming grin whenever they came back in after a day's work made the evening something to look forward to. Jax was so right, Quinn would tell his fiance time and again - Nicky-baby was addictive. Dangerously so. He doubted there was another man on the planet who could give Nick a run for his money.

So life as Alex Knight's son was good; life in KnightShade was good; he was getting married in a couple of months' time; he was in love; he was happy. Sure, there was that fifth man still loose out there. Anthony DiNozzo Snr told them about his son, Tony, being a possible target of the remaining White Phoenix leader. Yes, Alex ordered M31 to keep Tony alive and well, including his lover, Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Yes, Jax confirmed, DiNozzo Junior and his older lover-who-is-also-his-boss would be moving to Hawaii and wait - would be bunking with them. Yes, Jax repeated, they were NCIS agents.

* * * * *

None of the M31 boys had ever had an NCIS agent. They wondered what those Feds tasted like.

 

 

**~~~END~~~**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Knight to Remember takes place _before_ DiNozzo! begins, but the epilogue plays out simultaneously as the DiNozzo! timeline. At the end of the epilogue, Jenny Shepard has just been killed on the DiNozzo! timeline and Tony is about to arrive in Hawaii, to be followed later by Gibbs. Hence the M31 boys' curiosity about these NCIS agents. 
> 
> Note that M31 is moving behind the scenes in DiNozzo! right down to planning the transfer of Tony to Hawaii, followed by Gibbs, and their eventual collaboration with KnightShade. Tony and Gibbs are kept out of the loop until toward the end of DiNozzo! and even Vance is given limited information. Everything Gibbs and Tony said and did in his apartment was watched by the M31 via the surveillance vid. So the M31 boys know the two NCIS agents intimately. They just don't know what they literally taste like. Yet.


End file.
